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formidable." 


The   Heart  of  the 
Ancient  Wood 


By 

Charles  G.    D.    Roberts 

Author  of  By  the  Marshes  of  Mitias,  The  Forge 

in  the  Forest,  A  Sister  to  Evangeline, 

New  York  Nocturnes,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


■^^ 


New    York    *    A.    Wessels 
Company    ^    Mdccccvi 


CorVRTCTIT,   IOOO, 

By  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1900, 
By  SILVER,  BURDETT  &   COMPANY. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,   England, 


A II  rights  reserved. 


PR. 


To 
L.  W.   v.  U« 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

Page 

I. 

The  Watchers  of  the  Trail 

I 

II. 

The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing 

18 

III. 

The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement 

3° 

IV. 

Miranda  and  the  Furtive  Folk  . 

.       46 

V. 

Kroof,  the  She-bear 

.       64 

VI. 

The  Initiation  of  Miranda         . 

.       76 

VII. 

The  Intimates        . 

88 

VIII. 

Axe  and  Antler      . 

107 

IX. 

The  Pax  Mirandas 

121 

X. 

The  Routing  of  the  Philistines  . 

•      *33 

XI. 

Miranda  and  Young  Dave 

H5 

XII. 

Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     . 

162 

XIII. 

Milking-time           . 

173 

XIV. 

Moonlight  and  Moose-call         . 

F87 

XV. 

A  Venison  Steak    . 

203 

XVI. 

Death  for  a  Little  Life     . 

225 

XVII. 

In  the  Roar  of  the  Rapids 

245 

XVIII. 

The  Forfeit  of  the  Alien 

262 

THE   HEART  OF  THE 
ANCIENT  WOOD 

Chapter  I 
The  Watchers  of  the  Trail 

NOT  indolently  soft,  like  that  which 
sifts  in  green  shadow  through  the 
leafage  of  a  summer  garden,  but  tense, 
alertly  and  mysteriously  expectant,  was  the 
silence  of  the  forest.  It  was  somehow 
like  a  vast  bubble  of  glass,  blown  to  a 
fineness  so  tenuous  that  a  small  sounds 
were  it  but  to  strike  the  one  preordained 
and  mystic  note,  might  shatter  it  down  in 
loud  ruin.  Yet  it  had  existed  there  flaw- 
less for  generations,  transmuting  into  its 
own  quality  all  such  infrequent  and  incon- 
sequent disturbance  as  might  arise  from 
the  far-off"  cry  of  the  panther,  or  the  thin 
chrrp  of  the  clambering  nuthatch,  the 
long,  solemn  calling  of  the  taciturn  moose, 

B  I 


2     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


twice  or  thrice  repeated  under  the  round 
October  moon,  or  the  noise  of  some  great 
wind  roaring  heavily  in  the  remote  tops 
of  pine  and  birch  and  hemlock.  Few  and 
slender  were  the  rays  of  sun  that  pierced 
down  through  those  high  tops.  The  air 
that  washed  the  endless  vistas  of  brown- 
green  shadow  was  of  a  marvellous  clarity, 
not  blurred  by  any  stain  of  dust  or  vapour. 
Its  magical  transparency  was  confusing  to 
an  eve  not  born  and  bred  to  it,  making 
the  far  branches  seem  near,  and  the  near 
twigs  unreal,  disturbing  the  accustomed 
perspective,  and  hinting  of  some  elvish 
deception  in  familiar  and  apparent  things. 
The  frail  through  the  forest  was  rough 
i  long  unused.  In  spots  the  mosses 
and  ground  vines  had  so  overgrown  it 
that  only  the  broad  scars  on  the  tree 
trunks,  where  the  lumberman's  axe  had 
blazed  them  for  a  sign,  served  to  distin- 
guish if  from  a  score  of  radiating  vistas. 
But  just  lure,  where  it  climbed  a  long, 
gradual  slope,  the  run  of  water  down  its 
hr  hollow  had  sufficed  to  keep  its  worn 
partly    bare.      Moreover,    though 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail  3 

the  furrowing  steps  of  man  had  left  it 
these  many  seasons  untrodden,  it  was 
never  wholly  neglected.  A  path  once 
fairly  differentiated  by  the  successive  pass- 
ings of  feet  will  keep,  almost  forever,  a 
spell  for  the  persuasion  of  all  that  go 
afoot.  The  old  trail  served  the  flat, 
shuffling  tread  of  Kroof,  the  great  she- 
bear,  as  she  led  her  half-grown  cub  to 
feast  on  the  blueberry  patches  far  up  the 
mountain.  It  caught  the  whim  of  Ten- 
Tine,  the  caribou,  as  he  convoyed  his  slim 
cows  down  to  occasional  pasturage  in  the 
alder  swamps  of  the  slow  Quah-Davic. 

On  this  September  afternoon,  when  the 
stillness  seemed  to  wait  wide-eyed,  sud- 
denly a  cock-partridge  came  whirring  up 
the  trail,  alighted  on  a  gnarled  limb, 
turned  his  outstretched  head  twice  from 
side  to  side  as  he  peered  with  his  round 
beads  of  eyes,  and  then  stiffened  into  the 
moveless  semblance  of  one.  of  the  fungoid 
excrescences  with  which  the  tree  was 
studded.  A  moment  more  and  the  sound 
of  footsteps,  of  the  nails  of  heavy  boots 
striking  on  the  stones,  grew  conspicuous 


The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


against  the  silence.  Up  the  trail  came 
slouching,  with  a  strong  but  laborious 
stride,  a  large,  grizzled  man  in  grey  home- 
spuns. His  trousers  were  stuffed  un- 
evenly into  the  tops  of  his  rusty  boots ; 
on  his  head  was  a  drooping,  much-bat- 
tered hat  of  a  felt  that  had  been  brown; 
from  his  belt  hung  a  large  knife  in  a  fur- 
fringed  leather  sheath ;  and  over  his 
shoulder  he  carried  an  axe,  from  the 
head  of  which  swung  a  large  bundle. 
The  bundle  was  tied  up  in  a  soiled  patch- 
work quilt  of  gaudy  colours,  and  from 
time  to  time  there  came  from  it  a  flat 
clatter  suggestive  of  tins.  At  one  side 
protruded  the  black  handle  of  a  frying- 
pan,  half  wrapped  up  in  newspaper. 

Had  he  been  hunter  or  trapper,  Dave 
Titus  would  have  carried  a  gun.  Or 
had  he  been  a  townsman,  a  villager,  or 
even  an  ordinary  small  country  farmer, 
he  would  have  taken  care  to  be  well 
armed  before  penetrating  a  day's  journey 
into  the  heart  of  the  ancient  wood.  But 
being  a  lumberman,  he  was  neither  quite 
of  the  forest  nor  quite  of  the  open.      His 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail  5 

winters  he  spent  in  the  very  deep  of  the 
wilderness,  in  a  log  camp  crowded  with 
his  mates,  eating  salt  pork,  beans,  hot 
bread ;  and  too  busy  all  day  long  with  his 
unwearying  axe  to  wage  any  war  upon  the 
furred  and  feathered  people.  His  sum- 
mers were  passed  with  plough  and  hoe  on 
a  little  half-tilled  farm  in  the  Settlements. 
He  had,  therefore,  neither  the  desire  to 
kill  nor  the  impulse  to  fear,  as  he  traversed, 
.  neutral  and  indifferent,  these  silent  but 
not  desolated  territories.  Not  desolated  ; 
for  the  ancient  wood  was  populous  in 
its  reserve.  Observant,  keen  of  vision, 
skilled  in  woodcraft  though  he  was,  the 
grave-faced  old  lumberman  saw  nothing 
in  the  tranquillity  about  him  save  tree 
trunks,  and  fallen,  rotting  remnants,  and 
mossed  hillocks,  and  thickets  of  tangled 
shrub.  He  noted  the  difference,  not 
known  to  the  general  eye,  between  white 
spruce,  black  spruce,  and  fir,  between  grey 
birch  and  yellow  birch,  between  withe- 
wood  and  viburnum ;  and  he  read  in- 
stinctively, by  the  lichen  growth  about 
their  edges,  how  many  seasons    had  laid 


6    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

their  disfeaturing  touch  upon  those  old 
scars  of  the  axe  which  marked  the  trail. 
But  for  all  his  craft  he  thought  himself 
alone.  He  guessed  not  of  the  many  eyes 
that  watched  him. 

In  truth,  his  progress  was  the  focus  of 
an  innumerable  attention.  The  furtive 
e\  es  that  followed  his  movements  were 
some  of  them  timorously  hostile,  some 
impotently  vindictive,  some  indifferent; 
but  all  alien.  All  were  at  one  in  the  will 
to  remain  unseen ;  so  all  kept  an  unwink- 
ing immobility,  and  were  swallowed  up,  as 
it  were,  in  the  universal  stillness. 

The  cock-partridge,  a  well-travelled 
bin!  who  knew  the  Settlements  and  their 
violent  perils,  watched  with  indignant 
apprehension.  Not  without  purpose  had 
be  come  whirring  so  tumultuously  up  the 
trail,  a  warning  to  the  ears  of  all  the  wood- 
folk.  His  fear  was  lest  the  coming  of 
this  grey  man-figure  should  mean  an  in- 
>!i  of  those  long,  black  sticks  which 
went  off  with  smoky  bang  when  they 
were  pointed.  He  effaced  himself  till  his 
brown     mottled    feathers  were    fairly   one 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail 


with  the  mottled  brown  bark  of  his  perch  ; 
but  his  liquid  eyes  lost  not  a  least  move- 
ment of  the  stranger. 

The  nuthatch,  who  had  been  walking 
straight  up  the  perpendicular  trunk  of  a 
pine  when  the  sound  of  the  alien  footsteps 
froze  him,  peered  fixedly  around  the  tree. 
His  eye,  a  black  point  of  inquiry,  had 
never  before  seen  anything  like  this 
clumsy  and  slow-moving  shape,  but  knew 
it  for  something  dangerous.  His  little 
slaty  head,  jutting  at  an  acute  angle  from 
the  bark,  looked  like  a  mere  caprice  of 
knot  or  wood  fungus ;  but  it  had  the 
singular  quality  of  moving  smoothly 
around  the  trunk,  as  the  lumberman 
advanced,  so  as  to  keep  him  always  in 
view. 

Equally  curious,  but  quivering  with 
fear,  two  wood-mice  watched  him  intently, 
sitting  under  the  broad  leaf  of  a  skunk- 
cabbage  not  three  feet  from  the  trail. 
Their  whiskers  touched  each  other's 
noses,  conveying  thrills  and  palpitations 
of  terror  as  he  drew  near,  drew  nearer, 
came  —  and  passed.     But  not  unless  that 


8     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

blind,  unheeding  heel  had  been  on  the 
very  point  of  crushing  them  would  they 
have  disobeyed  the  prime  law  of  their 
tribe,  which  taught  them  that  to  sit  still 
was  to  sit  unseen. 

A  little  farther  back  from  the  trail, 
under  a  spreading  tangle  of  ironwood, 
on  a  bed  of  tawny  moss  crouched  a 
hare.  His  ears  lay  quite  flat  along  his 
back.  His  eyes  watched  with  aversion, 
not  unmixed  with  scorn,  the  heavy,  tall 
creature  that  moved  with  such  efFoit  and 
such  noise.  "  Never/'  thought  the  hare, 
disdainfully,  "  would  he  be  able  to  escape 
from  his  enemies ! '  As  the  delicate 
current  of  air  which  pulses  imperceptibly 
through  the  forest  bore  the  scent  of  the 
man  to  the  hare's  hiding-place,  the  fine 
nostrils  of  the  latter  worked  rapidly  with 
dislike.  On  a  sudden,  however,  came  a 
waft  of  other  scent ;  and  the  hare's  form 
seemed  to  shrink  to  half  its  size,  the 
nostrils   rigidly   dilating. 

It  was  the  scent  of  the  weasel  —  to  the 
hare  it  war,  the  very  essence  of  death. 
But  it  passed  in  an   instant,  and  then  the 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail  9 

hare's  exact  vision  saw  whence  it  came. 
For  the  weasel,  unlike  all  the  other  folk 
of  the  wood,  was  moving.  He  was  keep- 
ing pace  with  the  man,  at  a  distance  of 
some  ten  feet  from  the  trail.  So  fitted, 
however,  was  his  colouring  to  his  sur- 
rounding, so  shadow-like  in  its  soundless 
grace  was  his  motion,  that  the  man  never 
discerned  him.  The  weasel's  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  intruder  with  a  malignancy 
of  hate  that  might  well  have  seared  through 
his  unconsciousness.  Fortunately  for  the 
big  lumberman,  the  weasel's  strength,  stu- 
pendous for  its  size,  was  in  no  way  com- 
mensurate with  its  malice ;  or  the  journey 
would  have  come  to  an  end  just  there,  and 
the  gaudy  bundle  would  have  rested  on 
the  trail  to  be  a  long  wonder  to  the  mice. 
The  weasel  presently  crossed  the  yet 
warm  scent  of  a  mink,  whereupon  he  threw 
up  his  vain  tracking  of  the  woodman  and 
turned  off  in  disgust.  He  did  not  like 
the  mink,  and  wondered  what  that  fish- 
eater  could  be  wanting  so  far  back  from 
the  water.  He  was  not  afraid  exactly, — 
few   animals    know   fear    so    little    as   the 


io    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


weasel,  —  but  he  kept  a  small  shred  of 
prudence  in  his  savage  little  heart,  and  he 
knew  that  the  mink  was  scarcely  less 
ferocious  than  himself,  while  nearly  thrice 
his  size. 

From  the  mossy  crotch  of  an  old  ash 
tree,  slanting  over  the  trail,  a  pair  of  pale, 
mellow-green  eyes,  with  fine  black  slits 
for  pupils,  watched  the  traveller's  march. 
They  were  set  in  a  round,  furry  head, 
which  was  pressed  flat  to  the  branch  and 
partly  overhung,  it.  The  pointed,  tufted 
ears  lay  flat  back  upon  the  round  brown 
head.  Into  the  bark  of  the  branch  four 
sets  of  razor-edged  claws  dug  themselves 
venomously;  for  the  wild-cat  knew,  per- 
haps through  some  occult  communication 
from  its  far-off  domesticated  kin  of  hearth 
and  door-sill,  that  in  man  he  saw  the  one 
unvanquishable  enemy  to  all  the  folk  of 
riie  wood.  He  itched  fiercely  to  drop 
upon  the  man's  bowed  neck,  just  where  it 
showed,  red  and  defenceless,  between  the 
gaudy  bundle  and  the  rim  of  the  brown 
hat.  Hut  the  wild-cat,  the  lesser  lynx,  was 
heir  to  a  ferocity  well   tempered  with  dis- 


The  Watchers  of  the   Trail         1 1 

cretion,  and  the  old  lumberman  slouched 
onward  unharmed,  all  ignorant  of  that 
green  gleam  of  hate  playing  upon  his 
neck. 

It  was  a  very  different  gaze  which  fol- 
lowed him  from  the  heart  of  a  little  colony 
of  rotting  stumps,  in  a  dark  hollow  near 
the  trail.  Here,  in  the  cool  gloom,  sat 
Kroof,  the  bear,  rocking  her  huge  body 
contemplatively  from  side  to  side  on  her 
haunches,  and  occasionally  slapping  oft  a 
mosquito  from  the  sensitive  tip  of  her 
nose.  She  had  no  cub  running  with  her 
that  season,  to  keep  her  busy  and  anxious. 
For  an  hour  she  had  been  comfortably 
rocking,  untroubled  by  fear  or  desire  or 
indignation  ;  but  when  the  whirring  of  the 
cock-partridge  gave  her  warning,  and  the 
grating  of  the  nailed  boots  caught  her  ear, 
she  had  stiffened  instantly  into  one  of  the 
big  brown  stumps.  Her  little  red  eyes 
followed  the  stranger  with  something  like 
a  twinkle  in  them.  She  had  seen  men 
before,  and  she  neither  actively  feared 
them  nor  actively  disliked  them.  Only, 
averse  to  needless  trouble,  she  cared  not 


12     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


to  intrude  herself  on  their  notice ;  and 
therefore  she  obeyed  the  custom  of  the 
wood,  and  kept  still.  But  the  bear  is  far 
the  most  human  of  all  the  furry  wood- 
folk,  the  most  versatile  and  largely  toler- 
ant, the  least  enslaved  by  its  surroundings. 
It  has  an  ample  sense  of  humour,  also, 
that  most  humane  of  gifts ;  and  it  was  with 
a  certain  relish  that  Kroof  recognized  in 
the  grey-clad  stranger  one  of  those  loud 
axemen  from  whose  camp,  far  down  by 
the  Quah-Davic,  she  had  only  last  winter 
stolen  certain  comforting  rations  of  pork. 
Her  impulse  was  to  rock  again  with  satis- 
faction at  the  thought,  but  that  would 
have  been  out  of  keeping  with  her  present 
character  as  a  decaying  stump,  and  she 
restrained  herself.  She  also  restrained  a 
whimsical  impulse  to  knock  the  gaudy 
bundle  from  the  stranger's  back  with  one 
sweep  of  her  great  paw,  and  see  if  it  might 
not  contain  many  curious  and  edifying 
things,  if  not  even  pork.  It  was  not  till 
she  had  watched  him  well  up  the  trail  and 
fairly  over  the  crest  of  the  slope  that,  with 
a   deep,    non-committal    grunt,   she    again 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail         13 

turned  her  attention  to  the  mosquitoes, 
which  had  been  learning  all  the  tenderness 
of  a  bear's  nose. 

These  were  but  a  few  of  the  watchers 
of  the  trail,  whose  eyes,  themselves  unseen, 
scrutinized  the  invader  of  the  ancient  wood. 
Each  step  of  all  his  journey  was  well  noted. 
Not  so  securely  and  unconsideringly  would 
he  have  gone,  however,  had  he  known 
that  only  the  year  before  there  had  come 
a  pair  of  panthers  to  occupy  a  vacant  lair 
on  the  neighbouring  mountain  side.  No, 
his  axe  would  have  swung  free,  and  his 
eyes  would  have  scanned  searchingly  every 
overhanging  branch  ;  for  none  knew  better 
than  old  Dave  Titus  how  dangerous  a  foe 
was  the  tawny  northern  panther.  But 
just  now,  as  it  chanced,  the  panther  pair 
were  hunting  away  over  in  the  other  valley, 
the  low,  dense-wooded  valley  of  the  Quah- 
Davic. 

As  matters  stood,  for  all  the  watchers 
that  marked  him,  the  old  lumberman 
walked  amid  no  more  imminent  menace 
than  that  which  glittered  down  upon  him 
from  four  pairs  of  small  bright  eyes,  high 


14    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

up  among  the  forking  limbs  of  an  old 
pine.  In  a  well-hidden  hole,  as  in  a  nur- 
sery window,  were  bunched  the  smooth 
heads  of  four  young  squirrels,  interested 
beyond  measure  in  the  strange  animal 
plodding  so  heavily  below  them.  Had 
they  been  Settlement  squirrels  they  would, 
without  doubt,  have  passed  shrill  com- 
ments, more  or  less  uncomplimentary ; 
for  the  squirrel  loves  free  speech.  But 
when  he  dwells  among  the  folk  of  the 
ancient  wood  he,  even  he,  learns  reticence  ; 
and,  in  that  neighbourhood,  if  a  young 
squirrel  talks  out  loud  in  the  nest,  the 
consequences  which  follow  have  a  ten- 
dency to  be  final.  When  the  old  lumber- 
man had  passed  out  of  their  range  of  view, 
the  four  little  heads  disappeared  into  the 
musky  brown  depths  of  the  nest,  and  talked 
the  event  over  in  the  smallest  of  whispers. 
As  the  lumberman  journeyed,  cover- 
ing good  ground  with  his  long,  slouch- 
ing stride,  the  trail  gradually  descended 
through  a  tract  where  moss-grown  boul- 
ders were  strown  thick  among  the  trees. 
Presently   the  clear    green  brown    of  the 


The   Watchers  of  the  Trail         15 

mid-forest  twilight  took  a  pallor  ahead  of 
him,  and  the  air  began  to  lose  its  pun- 
gency of  bark  and  mould.  Then  came 
the  flat,  soft  smell  of  sedge ;  and  the  trees 
fell  awav  ;  and  the  traveller  came  out 
upon  the  shores  of  a  lake.  Its  waters 
were  outspread  pearly-white  from  a  fringe 
of  pale  green  rushes,  and  the  opposite 
shore  looked  black  against  the  pale,  hazy 
sky.  A  stone's  throw  beyond  the  sedge 
rose  a  little  naked  island  of  black  rock,  and 
in  the  sheen  of  water  off  its  extremity  there 
floated  the  black,  solitary  figure  of  a  loon. 
As  the  lumberman  came  out  clear  of  the 
trees,  and  the  gaudy  colours  of  his  bundle 
caught  its  eye,  the  bird  sank  itself  lower 
in  the  water  till  only  its  erect  neck  and 
wedge-shaped  head  were  in  view.  Then, 
opening  wide  its  beak,  it  sent  forth 
its  wild  peal  of  inexplicable  and  discon- 
certing laughter  —  an  affront  to  the  silence, 
but  a  note  of  monition  to  all  the  creatures 
of  the  lake.  The  loon  had  seen  men 
before,  and  despised  them,  and  found 
pleasure  in  proclaiming  the  scorn.  It 
despised  even  the  long,  black  sticks  that 


1 6    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

went  off  with  smoky  bang  when  pointed; 
for  had  it  not  learned,  in  another  lake 
near  the  Settlement,  to  dive  at  the  flash 
and  so  elude  the  futile,  spattering  pellets 
that  flew  from  the  stick. 

The  lumberman  gave  neither  a  first 
nor  a  second  thought  to  the  loon  at  all, 
but  quickened  his  pace  in  the  cheerful 
open.  The  trail  now  led  some  way  along 
the  lake-side,  till  the  shore  became  higher 
and  rougher,  and  behind  a  cape  of  rock 
a  bustling  river  emptied  itself,  carrying 
lines  of  foam  and  long  ripples  far  out 
across  the  lake's  placidity.  From  the 
cape  of  rock  towered  a  bleak,  storm- 
whitened  rampike,  which  had  been  a  pine 
tree  before  the  lightning  smote  it.  Its 
broken  top  was  just  now  serving  as  the 
perch  of  a  white-headed  eagle.  The 
great  bird  bent  fierce  yellow  eyes  upon 
the  stranger,  —  eyes  with  a  cruel-looking, 
straight  overhang  of  brow, — and  stretched 
its  flat-crowned,  snake-like  head  far  out  to 
regard  him.  It  opened  the  rending  sickle 
of  its  beak  and  yelped  at  him  — three  times 
at  deliberated  interv.il.    Then  the  traveller 


The  Watchers  of  the  Trail         17 

M  ■  ■    ■■■* 

vanished  again  into  the  gloom  of  the 
wood,  and  the  arrogant  bird  plumed 
himself  upon  a  triumph. 

The  trail  now  touched  the  river,  only 
to  forsake  it  and  plunge  into  the  heart 
of  a  growth  of  young  Canada  balsam. 
This  sweet-smelling  region  traversed,  the 
soft  roar  of  the  stream  was  left  behind, 
and  the  forest  resumed  its  former  monu- 
mental features.  For  another  hour  the 
man  tramped  steadily,  growing  more  con- 
scious of  his  load,  more  and  more  unin- 
terested in  his  surroundings ;  and  for 
another  hour  his  every  step  was  noted  by 
intent,  unwinking  eyes  from  branch  and 
thicket.  Then  again  the  woods  fell  apart 
with  a  spreading  of  daylight.  He  came 
out  upon  the  spacious  solitude  of  a  clear- 
ing ;  pushed  through  the  harsh  belt  of 
blackberry  and  raspberry  canes,  which 
grew  as  a  neutral  zone  between  forest  and 
open  ;  picked  his  way  between  the  burned 
stumps  and  crimson  flreweeds  of  a  long 
desolate  pasture ;  and  threw  down  his 
bundle  at  the  door  of  the  loneliest  cabin 
he  had  ever  chanced  to  see. 


Chapter    II 
The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing 

THOUGH  a  spur  of  black,  uncom- 
promising spruce  woods  gave  it  near 
shelter  on  the  north,  the  harshly  naked 
clearing  fell  away  from  it  on  the  other 
three  sides,  and  left  the  cabin  bleak.  Not 
a  shrub  nor  a  sapling  broke  the  bareness 
of  the  massive  log  walls,  whence  the  peel- 
ing bark  hung  in  strips  that  fluttered 
desolately  to  every  wind.  Only  a  few 
tall  and  ragged  weeds,  pale  green,  and 
with  sparse,  whitish  grey  seed-heads, 
straggled  against  the  foundation  logs. 
The  rough  deal  door  sagged  on  its  hinges, 
half  open.  The  door-sill  gaped  with  a 
wide  crack,  rotted  along  the  edges ;  and 
along  the  crack  grew  a  little  fringe  of 
grass,  ruthlessly  crushed  down  by  old 
Dave's  gaudy  bundle.  The  two  small  win- 
dows still   held  fragments  of  glass  in  their 

is 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing         19 

sashes.  —  glass  thick  with  spiders'  webs, 
and  captive  dust,  and  the  debris  of  withered 
insects.  The  wide-eaved  roof,  well  built 
of  split  cedar -slabs,  with  a  double  overlay 
of  bark,  seemed  to  have  turned  a  brave 
front  to  the  assault  of  the  seasons,  and 
showed  few  casualties.  Some  thirty  paces 
to  one  side  stood  another  cabin,  lower  and 
more  roughly  built,  whose  roof  had  partly 
fallen  in.  This  had  been  the  barn, — 
this,  with  a  battered  lean-to  of  poles  and 
interwoven  spruce  boughs  against  its 
southerly  wall.  The  barn  was  set  down 
at  haphazard,  in  no  calculated  or  content- 
ing relation  to  the  main  building,  but 
just  as  the  lay  of  the  hillocks  had  made 
it  simplest  to  find  a  level  for  the  founda- 
tions. All  about  it  grew  a  tall,  coarse 
grass,  now  grey  and  drily  rustling,  the 
brood  of  seeds  which  in  past  years  had 
sifted  through  the  chinks  from  the  hay 
stored  in  the  loft.  The  space  between 
the  two  buildings,  and  for  many  square 
yards  about  the  cabin  door,  was  strewn 
thick  with  decaying  chips,  through  which 
the    dock    and     plantain    leaves,    hardy 


20    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

strangers  from  the  Settlement,  pushed 
up  their  broad,  obtuse  intrusion.  Over 
toward  the  barn  lay  the  bleached  skeleton 
of  a  bob-sled,  the  rusted  iron  shoe  partly 
twisted  from  one  runner;  and  in  the 
centre  of  the  space,  where  the  chips 
gathered  thickest  and  the  plantains  had 
gained  least  ground,  lay  a  split  chopping- 
log,  whose  scars  bore  witness  to  the 
vigour  of  a  vanished  axe. 

The  old  lumberman  fetched  a  deep 
breath,  depressed  by  the  immeasurable 
desolation.  His  eye  wandered  over  the 
weedy  fields,  long  fallow,  and  the  rugged 
stump  lots  aflame  here  and  there  with 
patches  of  golden-rod  and  crimson  fire- 
weed.  To  him  these  misplaced  flares  of 
colour  seemed  only  to  make  the  loneli- 
ness more  forlorn,  perhaps  by  their  asso- 
ciation with  homelier  and  kindlier  scenes. 
He  leaned  on  his  axe,  and  pointed  indefi- 
nitely with  his  thumb. 

"Squat  here!  an'  farm  yon!"  said 
he,  with  contemplative  disapproval.  "  I'd 
see  myself  furder  first !  But  Kirstie 
Craig's  got  grit  for  ten  men  !  " 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing        21 

Then  he  pushed  the  door  open,  lifting 
it  to  ease  the  hinge,  and  stepped  peer- 
ingly  inside.  As  he  did  so,  a  barn-swal- 
low flickered  out  through  a  broken  pane. 

The  cabin  contained  two  rooms,  one 
much  smaller  than  the  other.  The  ceil- 
ing of  the  smaller  room  was  formed  by  a 
loft  at  the  level  of  the  eaves,  open  toward 
the  main  room,  which  had  no  ceiling  but 
the  roof  of  slabs  and  bark.  Here,  run- 
ning up  through  the  east  gable,  was  a 
chimney  of  rough  stone,  arched  at  the 
base  to  contain  a  roomy  hearth,  with 
swinging  crane  and  rusted  andirons.  A 
settle  of  plank  was  fixed  along  the  wall 
under  the  window.  Down  the  middle  of 
the  room,  its  flank  toward  the  hearth,  ran 
a  narrow  table  of  two  planks,  supported 
by  unsmoothed  stakes  driven  into  the 
floor.  In  the  corner  farthest  from  the 
chimney,  over  against  the  partition,  was 
a  shallow  sleeping  bunk,  a  mere  oblong 
box  partly  filled  with  dry  red  pickings 
of  spruce  and  hemlock.  The  floor  was 
littered  with  dead  leaves  and  with  ashes 
wind-drifted  from  the  hearth. 


22     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


Old  Dave  went  over  and  glanced  into 
the  bunk.  He  found  the  spruce  pick- 
ings scratched  up  toward  one  end,  and 
arranged  as  they  would  be  for  no  human 
occupant. 

"  Critters  been  sleepin'  here  !  "  he  mut- 
tered. Then  laying  down  his  bundle,  he 
turned  his  attention  to  the  hearth,  and 
soon  the  old  chimney  tasted  once  more, 
after  its  long  solitude,  the  cheer  of  the 
familiar  heat. 

It  was  now  close  upon  sundown,  and 
the  lumberman  was  hungry.  He  untied 
the  grimy,  many-coloured  quilt.  Kroof,  the 
she-bear,  had  been  right  in  her  surmise  as 
to  that  bundle.  It  did  contain  pork,  —  a 
small,  well-salted  chunk  of  it ;  and  pres- 
ently the  red-and-white-streaked  slices 
were  sputtering  crisply  in  the  pan,  while 
the  walls  and  roof  saturated  themselves 
once  more  in  old-remembered  savours. 

By  the  time  the  woodman  had  made 
his  meal  of  fried  pork  and  bread,  and 
had  smoked  out  his  little  pipe  of  black- 
ened clay,  a  lonely  twilight  had  settled 
about  the  cabin  in  the  clearing.     He  went 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing         23 

to  the  door  and  looked  out.  A  white 
mist,  rising  along  the  forest  edges,  seemed 
to  cut  him  off  from  all  the  world  of 
men ;  and  a  few  large  stars,  at  vast  inter- 
vals, came  out  solemnly  upon  the  round 
of  sky.  He  shut  the  door,  dropped  the 
wooden  latch  into  its  slot,  and  threw  a 
dry  sliver  upon  the  hearth  to  give  him 
light  for  turning  in.  He  was  sparing  of 
the  firewood,  remembering  that  Kirstie, 
when  she  came,  would  need  it  all.  Then 
he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  knocked 
out  the  ashes,  wiped  the  stump  on  his 
sleeve,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket ;  took  off 
his  heavy  boots,  rolled  himself  in  the 
coloured  quilt,  and  tumbled  comfortably 
into  the  bunk,  untroubled  by  any  thought 
of  its  previous  tenants.  No  sooner  was 
he  still  than  the  mice  came  out  and  began 
scampering  across  the  loft.  He  felt  the 
sound  homely  and  companionable,  and 
so  fell  asleep.  As  he  slept  the  deep 
undreaming  sleep  of  the  wholesomely 
tired,  the  meagre  fire  burned  low,  sank 
into  pulsating  coals,  and  faded  into  black- 
ness. 


24    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  later  that  Old 
Dave  sat  up,  suddenly  wide  awake.  He 
had  no  idea  why  he  did  it.  He  had 
heard  no  noise.  He  was  certainly  not 
afraid.  There  was  no  tremor  in  his  sea- 
soned nerves.  Nevertheless,  he  was  all 
at  once  absolutely  awake,  every  sense 
alert.  He  felt  almost  as  if  there  were 
some  unkindred  presence  in  the  cabin. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  spring  from 
the  bunk,  and  investigate.  But,  doubt- 
less because  he  had  spent  so  great  a 
portion  of  his  life  in  the  forest,  and 
because  he  had  all  that  day  been  subtly 
played  upon  by  its  influences,  another 
instinct  triumphed.  He  followed  the 
immemorial  fashion  of  the  folk  of  the 
wood,  and  just  kept  still,  waiting  to  learn 
by  watching. 

He  saw  the  two  dim  squares  of  the 
windows,  and  once  imagined  that  one  of 
them  was  for  an  instant  shadowed.  At 
this  he  smiled  grimly  there  in  the  dark, 
well  knowing  that  among  all  the  forest- 
folk  there  was  not  one,  not  even  the 
panther  himself,  so  imprudent  as  to  climb 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing        25 


through  a  small  window  into  a  shut-up 
place,  all  reeking  with  the  fresh  and  omi- 
nous scent  of  man. 

Still   he  listened,  in   that   movelessness 
which    the    haunted    neighbourhood    had 
taught  him.     The  scurrying  of  the  mice 
had  ceased.     There  was  no  wind,  and  the 
darkness    seemed    all    ears.      The    door, 
presently,  gave    a    slow,  gentle    creaking, 
as    if    some    heavy    body    pushed    softly 
against  it,  trying  the  latch.     The  woods- 
man noiselessly  reached   out,  and  felt  the 
handle   of   his   axe,  leaning    by  the    head 
of  the  bunk.      But  the    latch    held,    and 
the    menacing    furtive    pressure    was    not 
repeated.     Then,  upon   the   very   middle 
of   the   roof,  began   a  scratching,   a   light 
rattling  of  claws,  and  footfalls  went  pad- 
ding delicately  over  the  bark.     This  puz- 
zled the   woodsman,  who  wondered  how 
the  owner  of  those  clawed  and  velveted 
feet  could  have  reached  the  roof  without 
some  noise  of  climbing.     The  soft  tread, 
with    an     occasional     scratch     and     snap, 
moved   up    and   down    the    roof    several 
times ;  and  once,  during  a  pause,  a  deep 


26     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

breath,  ending  with  a  sharp  sniffing  sound, 
was  heard  through  the  thin  roof.  Then 
came  a  muffled  thud  upon  the  chips,  as 
of  the  drop  of  a  heavy  animal. 

The  spell  was  broken,  and  Old  Dave 
rose  from  the  bunk. 

tc  It's  jumped  down  off  the  roof!  wild- 
cat, mebbe,  or  lynx.  No  painters  'round, 
tain't  likely ;  though't  did  sound  heavy 
fur  a  cat ! '  said,  he  to  himself,  as  he 
strode  to  the  door,  axe  in  hand. 

Fearlessly  he  threw  the  door  open,  and 
looked  out  upon  the  glimmering  night. 
The  forest  chill  was  in  the  air,  the  very 
breath  and  spirit  of  solitude.  The  mists 
gathered  thickly  a  stone's  throw  from  the 
cabin.  He  saw  nothing  that  moved. 
He  heard  no  stir.  With  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  he  turned,  latched  the  door 
again  with  just  a  trifle  more  exactness  of 
precaution  than  before,  lounged  back  to 
his  bunk,  and  slept  heedlessly  till  high 
dawn.  A  long  finger  of  light,  coldly 
rosy,  came  in  through  a  broken  pane  to 
rouse   him   up. 

When  he  went  outside,  the  mists   yet 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing         27 

clung  white  and  chill  about  the  clearing, 
and  all  the  weed  tops  were  beaded  with 
thick  dew.  He  noted  that  the  chips  were 
disturbed  somewhat,  but  could  find  no 
definite  track.  Then,  following  a  grassy 
path  that  led,  through  a  young  growth 
of  alder,  to  the  spring,  he  found  signs. 
Down  to  the  spring,  and  beyond,  into 
the  woods,  a  trail  was  drawn  that  spoke 
plain  language  to  his  wood-wise  scrutiny. 
The  grass  was  bent,  the  dew  brushed  off, 
by  a  body  of  some  bulk  and  going  close 
to  the  ground. 

"  Painter  1  "  he  muttered,  knitting  his 
brows,  and  casting  a  wary  glance  about 
him.  "  Reckon  Kirstie'd  better  bring  a 
gun  along !  " 

All  that  day  Dave  Titus  worked  about 
the  cabin  and  the  barn.  He  mended  the 
roof,  patched  the  windows,  rehung  the 
door,  filled  the  bunk  —  and  the  two  simi- 
lar ones  in  the  smaller  room  —  with  aro- 
matic fresh  green  spruce  tips,  and  worked 
a  miracle  of  rejuvenation  upon  the  barn. 
He  also  cleaned  out  the  spring,  and 
chopped  a  handy  pile  of  firewood.      An 


28     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


old  sheep-pen  behind  the  barn  he  left  in 
its  ruins,  saying  to  himself:  — 

"  What  with  the  b'ars,  an'  the  painters, 
Kirstie  ain't  goin'  to  want  to  mess  with 
sheep,  I  reckon.  She'll  have  lots  to  do 
to  look  after  her  critters  !  " 

By  "  critters "  he  meant  the  cow  and 
the  yoke  of  steers  which  were  Kirstie 
Craig's  property  in  the  Settlement,  and 
which,  as  he  knew,  she  was  to  bring  with 
her  to  her  exile  in  the  ancient  wood. 

That  night,  being  now  quite  at  home  in 
the  lonely  cabin,  and  assured  as  to  the 
stability  of  the  door,  Dave  Titus  slept 
dreamlessly  from  dark  to  dawn  in  the 
pleasant  fragrance  of  his  bunk.  From 
dark  to  dawn  the  mice  scurried  in  the  loft, 
the  bats  flickered  about  the  eaves,  the  un- 
known furry  bulks  leaned  on  the  door  or 
padded  softly  up  and  down  the  roof,  but 
troubled  not  his  rest.  Then  the  wild  folk 
began  to  take  account  of  the  fact  that  the 
sovereignty  of  the  clearing  had  been  re- 
sumed by  man,  and  word  of  the  new 
order  went  secretly  about  the  forest. 
When,  next  morning,  Dave  Titus  made 


The  Cabin  in  the  Clearing         ig 


careful  survey  of  the  clearing's  skirts,  cal- 
culating what  brush  and  poles  would  be 
needed  for  Kirstie's  fencing,  making  rough 
guesses  at  the  acreage,  and  noting  with 
approval  the  richness  of  the  good  brown 
soil,  he  thought  himself  alone.  But  he 
was  not  alone.  Speculative  eyes,  large 
and  small,  fierce  and  timorous,  from  all 
the  edges  of  the  ancient  wood  kept  watch 
on  him. 


Chapter  III 
The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement 

LATE  that  afternoon  Kirstle  Craig 
arrived.  Her  coming  was  a  mi- 
gration. 

The  first  announcement  of  her  approach 
was  the  dull  tank,  tank,  a-tonk,  tank  of  cow- 
bells down  the  trail,  at  sound  of  which  Old 
Dave  threw  aside  his  axe  and  slouched 
away  to  meet  her.  There  was  heard  a 
boy's  voice  shouting  with  young  author- 
ity, "  Gee  !  Gee,  Bright !  Gee,  Star  !  " 
and  the  head  of  the  procession  came  into 
view  in  the  solemn  green  archway  of  the 
woods. 

The  head  of  the  procession  was  Kirstie 
Craig  herself,  a  tall,  erect,  strong-stepping, 
long-limbed  woman  in  blue-grey  home- 
spuns, with  a  vivid  scarlet  kerchief  tied 
over  her  head.  She  was  leading,  by  a  rope 
about  its  horns,  a  meeklv  tolerant  black- 
and-white  cow.     To  her  left  hand  clung  a 

3° 


The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement     31 

skipping  little  figure  in  a  pink  calico  frock, 
a  broad-brimmed  hat  of  coarse  straw  flung 
back  from  her  hair  and  hanging  by  ribbons 
from  her  neck.  This  was  the  five-year- 
old  Miranda,  Kirstie  Craig's  daughter. 
She  had  ridden  most  of  the  journey,  and 
now  was  full  of  excited  interest  over  the 
approach  to  her  new  home.  Following 
close  behind  came  the  yoke  of  long- 
horned,  mild-eyed  steers,  —  Bright,  a  light 
sorrel,  and  Star,  a  curious  red-and-black 
brindle  with  a  radiating  splash  of  white  in 
the  middle  of  his  forehead.  These,  lurch- 
ing heavily  on  the  yoke,  were  hauling  a 
rude  "  drag,"  on  which  was  lashed  the 
meagre  pile  of  Kirstie's  belongings  and 
supplies.  Close  at  Star's  heaving  flank 
walked  a  lank  and  tow-haired  boy  from 
the  Settlement,  his  long  ox-goad  in  hand, 
and  an  expression  of  resigned  dissatisfac- 
tion on  his  grey-eyed,  ruddy  young  face. 
Liking,  and  thoroughly  believing  in, 
Kirstie  Craig,  he  had  impulsively  yielded 
to  her  request,  and  let  himself  be  hired  to 
assist  her  flight  into  exile.  But  in  so  do- 
ing he  had  gone  roughly  counter  to  pub- 


32    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

■  ■  -      -  - 

lie  opinion  ;  for  the  Settlement,  though 
stupidly  inhospitable  to  Kirstie  Craig, 
none  the  less  resented  her  decision  to 
leave  it.  Her  scheme  of  occupying  the 
deserted  cabin,  farming  the  deserted  clear- 
ing, and  living  altogether  aloof  from  her 
unloved  and  unloving  fellows,  was  scouted 
on  every  hand  as  the  freak  of  a  mad- 
woman ;  and  Young  Dave,  just  coming 
to  the  age  when  public  opinion  begins  to 
seem  important,  felt  uneasy  at  being  iden- 
tified with  a  matter  of  public  ridicule.  He 
saw  himself  already,  in  imagination,  a  theme 
for  the  fine  wit  of  the  Settlement.  Never- 
theless, he  was  glad  to  be  helping  Kirstie, 
for  he  was  sound  and  fearless  at  heart, 
and  he  counted  her  a  true  friend  if  she 
did  seem  to  him  a  bit  queer.  He  was 
faithful,  but  disapproving.  It  was  Old 
Dave  alone,  his  father,  who  backed  the 
woman's  venture  without  criticism  or  de- 
mur. He  had  known  Kirstie  from  small 
girlhood,  and  known  her  for  a  brave,  loyal, 
silent,  strongly-enduring  scul ;  and  in  his 
eyes  she  did  well  to  leave  the  Settlement, 
where  a  shallow  spite,  sharpened  by  her 


The   Exiles  from  the  Settlement     23 

proud  reticence  and  supplied  with  arrows 
of  injury  by  her  misfortunes,  made  life  an 
undesisting  and  immitigable  hurt  to  her. 

As  she  emerged  from  the  twilight  and 
came  out  upon  the  sunny  bleakness  of 
the  clearing,  the  unspeakable  loneliness  of 
it  struck  a  sudden  pallor  into  her  grave 
dark  face.  For  a  moment,  even  the 
humanity  that  was  hostile  to  her  seemed 
less  cruel  than  this  voiceless  solitude. 
Then  her  resolution  came  back.  The 
noble  but  somewhat  immobile  lines  of 
her  large  features  relaxed  into  a  half  smile 
at  her  own  weakness.  She  took  posses- 
sion, as  it  were,  by  a  sweeping  gesture  of 
her  head  ;  then  silently  gave  her  hand  in 
greeting  to  Old  Dave,  who  had  ranged  up 
beside  her  and  swung  the  dancing  Mi- 
randa to  his  shoulder.  Nothing  was  said 
for  several  moments,  as  the  party  moved 
slowly  up  the  slope  ;  for  they  were  folk  of 
few  words,  these  people,  not  praters  like 
so  many  of  their  fellows  in  the  Settlement. 

At  last  the  pink  frock  began  to  wriggle 
on  the  lumberman's  shoulder,  and  Mi- 
randa cried  out :  — 

D 


34    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  Let  me  down,  Uncle  Dave,  I  want  to 
pick  those  pretty  flowers  for  my  mother." 

The  crimson  glories  of  the  fireweed 
had  filled  her  eyes  with  delight;  and  in 
a  few  minutes  she  was  struggling  after 
the  procession  with  her  small  arms  full 
of  the  long-stalked  blooms. 

In  front  of  the  cabin  door  the  proces- 
sion stopped.  Dave  turned,  and  said 
seriously  :  — 

"I've  done  the  best  I  could  by  ye, 
Kirstie ;  an'  I  reckon  it  ain't  so  bad  a 
site  for  ye,  after  all.  But  ye'll  be  power- 
ful lonesome." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  Dave.  But  we 
ain't  going  to  be  lonesome,  Miranda  and 


>> 

me. 


"  But  there's  painters  'round.  You'd 
ought  to  hev  a  gun,  Kirstie.  I'll  be 
sackin'  out  some  stuff  fur  ye  nex'  week, 
Davev  an'  me,  an'  1  reckon  as  how  I'd 
better  fetch  ye  a  gun." 

"  We'll  be  right  hungry  for  a  sight  of 
your  faces  by  that  time,  Dave,"  said 
Kirstie,  sweeping  a  look  of  tenderness 
over  the  boy's  face,  where  he  stood  lean- 


The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement     35 

ing  on  Star's  brindled  shoulder.  "  But 
I  ain't  scared  of  panthers.  Don't  you 
mind  about  the  gun,  now,  for  I  don't 
want  it,  and  I   won't  use  it!" 

"  She  ain't  skeered  o'  nothin'  that 
walks,"  muttered  Young  Dave,  with  ad- 
miration. 

The  strong  face  darkened. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  Davey,"  she  answered ; 
"  I'm  afeard  of  evil  tongues." 

"  Well,  my  girl,  here  ye're  well  quit 
of  'em,"  said  the  old  lumberman,  a  slow 
anger  burning  on  his  rough-hewn  face  as 
he  thought  of  certain  busy  backbiters  in 
the  Settlement. 

Just  then  Miranda's  small  voice  chimed 
in. 

"  Oh,  Davey,"  she  cried,  catching  glee- 
fully at  the  boy's  leg,  "look  at  the  nice, 
great  big;  dog  !  "  And  her  little  brown 
finger  pointed  to  a  cluster  of  stumps,  of 
all  shapes  and  sizes,  far  over  on  the  limits 
of  the  clearing.  Her  wide,  brown  eyes 
danced  elvishly.  The  others  followed  her 
gaze,  all  staring  intently ;  but  they  saw 
no  excuse  for  her  excitement. 


36    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  It  might  be  a  b'ar  she  sees,"  said 
Old  Dave ;  "  but  I  can't  spot  it." 

"  They're  plenty  hereabouts,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Kirstie,  rather  indifferently, 
letting  her  eyes  wander  to  other  portions 
of  her  domain. 

"  Ain't  no  bear  there,"  asserted  Young 
Dave,  with  all  the  confidence  of  his  years. 
"  It's  a  stump  !  " 

"  Nice  big  dog  !  I  want  it,  mother," 
piped  Miranda,  suddenly  darting  away. 
But  her  mother's  firm  hand  fell  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"  There's  no  big  dog  out  here,  child," 
she  said  quietly.  And  Old  Dave,  after 
puckering  his  keen  eyes  and  knitting  his 
shaggy  brows  in  vain,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Oh,  quit  yer  foolin',  Mirandy,  ye 
little  witch.  'Tain't  nothin'  but  stumps,  I 
tell  ye." 

It  was  the  child's  eyes,  however,  that 
had  the  keener  vision,  the  subtler  know- 
ledge ;  and,  though  now  she  let  herself 
seem  to  be  persuaded,  and  obediently 
carried  her  armful  of  fireweed  into  the 
cabin,  she  knew  it  was  no  stump  she  had 


The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement     37 

been  looking  at.  And  as  for  Kroof, 
the  she-bear,  though  she  had  indeed  sat 
moveless  as  a  stump  among  the  stumps, 
she  knew  that  the  child  had  detected  her. 
She  saw  that  Miranda  had  the  eyes  that 
see  everything  and  cannot  be  deceived. 

For  two  days  the  man  and  the  boy 
stayed  at  the  clearing  to  help  Kirstie  get 
settled.  The  fields  rang  pleasantly  with 
the  tank,  tank,  a-tonk,  tank  of  the  cow-bells, 
as  the  cattle  fed  over  the  new  pasturage. 
The  edges  of  the  clearing  resounded  with 
axe  strokes,  and  busy  voices  echoed  on 
the  autumn  air.  There  was  much  rough 
fencing  to  be  built,  —  zig-zag  arrange- 
ments of  brush  and  saplings,  —  in  order 
that  Kirstie's  "critters"  might  be  shut 
in  till  the  sense  of  home  should  so  grow 
upon  them  as  to  keep  them  from  straying. 

The  two  days  done,  Old  Dave  and  Young 
Dave  shouldered  their  axes  and  went  away. 
Kirstie  forthwith  straightened  her  fine 
shoulders  to  the  Atlas  load  of  solitude 
which  had  threatened  at  first  to  overwhelm 
her  ;  and  she  and  Miranda  settled  down 
to  a  strangely  silent    routine.     This  was 


38     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

broken,  however,  at  first,  by  weekly  visits 
from  Old  Dave,  who  came  to  bring  hay, 
and  roots,  and  other  provisions  against 
the  winter,  together  with  large  "hanks" 
of  coarse  homespun  yarn,  to  occupy 
Kirstie's  fingers  during  the  long  winter 
evenings. 

Kirstie  was  well  fitted  to  the  task  she 
had  so  bravely  set  herself.  She  could 
swing  an  axe  ;  and  the  fencing  grew 
steadily  through  the  fall.  She  could  guide 
the  plough  ;  and  before  the  snow  came 
some  ten  acres  of  the  long  fallow  sod  had 
been  turned  up  in  brown  furrows,  to  be 
ripened  and  mellowed  by  the  frosts  for  next 
spring's  planting.  The  black-and-white 
cow  was  still  in  good  milk,  and  could  be 
depended  on  not  to  go  dry  a  day  more 
than  two  months  before  calving.  The 
steers  were  thrifty  and  sleek,  and  showed 
no  signs  of  fretting  for  old  pastures.  The 
hoarse  but  homely  music  of  the  cow-bells, 
sounding  all  day  over  the  fields,  and  giv- 
ing out  an  occasional  soft  tonk-a-tonk  from 
the  darkness  of  the  stalls  at  night,  came 
to  content  her  greatiy.     The  lines  which 


The   Exiles  from  the  Settlement     39 

she  had  brought  from  the  Settlement 
smoothed  themselves  from  about  her 
mouth  and  eyes,  and  the  large,  sufficing 
beauty  of  her  face  was  revealed  in  the 
peace  of  her  new  life. 

About  seven  years  before  this  move  to 
the  cabin  in  the  clearing,  Kirstie  Craig — 
then  Kirstie  MacAlister — had  gone  one 
evening  to  the  cross-roads  grocery  which 
served  the  Settlement  as  General  Intel- 
ligence Office.  Here  was  the  post-office 
as  well,  in  a  corner  of  the  store,  fitted  up 
with  some  dozen  of  lettered  and  dusty 
pigeon-holes.  Nodding  soberly  to  the 
loafers  who  lounged  about  on  the  soap 
boxes  and  nail  kegs,  Kirstie  stepped  up 
to  the  counter  to  buy  a  quart  of  molasses. 
She  was  just  passing  over  her  gaudy  blue- 
and-yellow  pitcher  to  be  filled,  when  a 
stranger  came  in  who  caught  her  attention. 
He  did  far  more  than  catch  her  attention; 
for  the  stately  and  sombre  girl,  who  had 
never  before  taken  pains  to  look  twice  on 
any  man's  face,  now  felt  herself  grow  hot 
and  cold  as  this  stranger's  eyes  glanced 
carelessly  over   her  splendid   form.     She 


4<d    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

heard  him  ask  the  postmaster  for  lodg- 
ings. He  spoke  in  a  tired  voice,  and 
accents  that  set  him  apart  from  the  men 
of  the  Settlement.  She  looked  at  him 
twice  and  yet  again,  noted  with  a  pang 
that  he  seemed  ill,  and  met  his  eye  fairly 
for  just  one  heart-beat.  At  once  she 
flushed  scarlet  under  it,  snatched  up  her 
pitcher,  and  almost  rushed  from  the  store. 
The  loafers  were  too  much  occupied  with 
the  new  arrival  to  notice  her  perturbation  ; 
but  he  noticed  it,  and  was  pleased.  Never 
before  had  he  seen  so  splendid  a  girl  as 
this  black-haired,  sphinx-faced  creature, 
with  the  scarlet  kerchief  about  her  head. 
She  was  a  picture  that  awoke  the  artist  in 
him,  and  put  him  in  haste  to  resume  his 
palette  and  brushes. 

For  Frank  Craig,  dilettante  and  man 
of  the  world,  was  a  good  deal  of  an  artist 
when  the  mood  seized  him  strongly 
enough.  When  another  mood  seized 
him,  with  sufficient  vigour  to  overcome 
his  native  indolence,  he  was  something  of 
a  musician  ;  and  again,  more  rarely,  some- 
thing of  a  poet.     The  temperament  was 


The   Exiles  from  the  Settlement     41 

his  ;  but  the  steadiness  of  purpose,  the 
decision  of  will,  the  long-enduring  patience, 
these  were  not.  He  had  just  enough 
money  to  let  him  float  through  his  world 
without  work.  Health  he  had  not,  and 
the  poor  semblance  of  it  which  mere  youth 
supplied  he  had  squandered  childishly. 
Hearing  of  new  health  in  the  gift  of  the 
northern  spruce  woods,  with  their  high, 
balsam -sweet  airs,  he  had  drifted  away 
from  his  temptations,  and  at  last  sought 
out  this  remote  backwoods  settlement  as 
a  place  where  he  might  expect  to  get 
much  for  little.  He  was  very  good  to  look 
upon,  —  about  as  tall  as  Kirstie  herself,  — 
slender,  active,  alert  in  movement  when 
not  wearied,  thoroughbred  in  every  line 
of  face  and  figure.  His  eyes,  of  a  very 
deep  greyish  green  under  long  black 
lashes,  were  penetrating  in  their  clearness, 
but  curiously  unstable.  In  their  beauti- 
ful depths  there  was  waged  forever  a 
strange  conflict  between  honesty  and  in- 
constancy. His  face,  pale  and  sallow,  was 
clothed  with  a  trimly  pointed,  close,  dark 
beard ;    and  his  hair,  just   a    trifle   more 


42     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

abundant  than  the  fashion  of  his  world 
approved,  was  of  a  peculiar,  tawny  dark 
bronze. 

The  air  of  the  Settlement  was  healing 
and  tonic  to  the  lungs,  and  before  he  had 
breathed  it  a  month  he  felt  himself  aglow 
with  joyous  life.  Before  he  had  breathed 
it  a  month  he  had  won  Kirstie  MacAlister, 
to  whom  he  seemed  little  less  than  a  god. 
To  him,  on  her  part,  she  was  a  splendid 
mystery.  Even  her  peculiarities  of  gram- 
mar and  accent  did  no  more  than  lend 
a  piquancy  to  her  strangeness.  They  ap- 
pealed as  a  rough,  fresh  flavour  to  his 
wearied  senses.  Here,  safe  from  the  wast- 
ing world,  he  would  really  paint,  would 
really  write,  and  life  would  come  to  mean 
something.  One  day  he  and  Kirstie  went 
away  on  the  rattling  old  mail-waggon,  which 
visited  the  Settlement  twice  a  week.  Ten 
days  later  they  came  back  as  man  and 
wife,  whereat  the  Settlement  showed  no 
surprise  whatever. 

For  a  whole  year  after  the  birth  of  his 
child,  the  great-eyed  and  fairy-like  Mi- 
randa, Frank  Craig  stayed  at  the  Settle- 


The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement     43 

ment,  seemingly  content.  He  was  loving, 
admiring,  tactful,  proud  of  his  dark  im- 
pressive wife,  and  the  quickness  with  which 
she  caught  his  purity  of  speech.  Then 
one  day  he  seemed  restless.  He  talked 
of  business  in  the  city  —  of  a  month's 
absence  that  could  not  be  avoided.  With 
a  kind  of  terror  at  her  heart  Kirstie  heard 
him,  but  offered  no  hint  of  opposition  to 
so  reasonable  a  purpose.  And  bv  the  next 
trip  of  the  rattling  mail-waggon  he  went, 
leaving  the  Settlement  dark  to  Kirstie's 
eyes. 

But — he  never  came  back.  The  months 
rolled  by,  and  no  word  came  of  him  ;  and 
Kirstie  gnawed  her  heart  out  in  proud 
anguish.  Inquiry  throughout  the  cities  of 
the  coast  brought  no  hint  of  him.  Then, 
as  the  months  climbed  into  years,  that  ten- 
der humanity  which  resents  misfortune  as 
a  crime  started  a  rumour  that  Kirstie  had 
been  fooled.  Perhaps  there  had  been 
no  marriage,  went  the  whisper  at  first. 
"  Served  her  right,  with  her  airs,  thinkin' 
she  could  ketch  a  gentleman  !  "  —  was  the 
next  development  of  it.     Kirstie,  with  her 


44    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

superior  air,  had  never  been  popular  at 
best;  and  after  her  marriage  the  sufficiency 
and  exclusiveness  of  her  joy,  coupled  with 
the  comparative  fineness  of  speech  which 
she  adopted,  made  her  the  object  of  jeal- 
ous criticism  through  all  the  country-side. 
When  the  temple  of  her  soaring  happiness 
came  down  about  her  ears,  then  was  the 
time  for  her  chastening,  and  the  gossips 
of  the  Settlement  took  a  hand  in  it  with 
right  good-will.  Nothing  else  worth  talk- 
ing about  happened  in  that  neighbourhood 
during  the  next  few  years,  so  the  little 
rumour  was  cherished  and  nourished. 
Presently  it  grew  to  a  great  scandal,  and 
the  gossips  came  to  persuade  themselves 
that  things  had  not  been  as  they  should 
be.  Kirstie,  they  said,  was  being  very 
properly  punished  by  Providence,  and  it 
was  well  to  show  that  they,  chaste  souls, 
stood  on  the  side  of  Providence.  If  Provi- 
dence threw  a  stone,  it  was  surely  their 
place  to  throw  three. 

At  last  some  one  of  imagination  vivid 
beyond  that  of  the  common  run  added  a 
m-w  feature.      Some  one  else  had   heard 


The  Exiles  from  the  Settlement     45 

from  some  one  else  of  some  one  having 
seen  Frank  Craig  in  the  city.  There  was 
at  first  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what 
city ;  but  that  little  discrepancy  was  soon 
smoothed  out.  Then  a  woman  was  sug- 
gested, and  forthwith  it  appeared  that  he 
had  been  seen  driving  with  a  handsome 
woman,  behind  a  spanking  pair,  with  liv- 
eried coachman  and  footman  on  the  box. 
Thus  gradually  the  myth  acquired  a  colour 
to  endear  it  to  the  unoccupied  rural  imagi- 
nation. Kirstie's  inquiries  soon  proved  to 
her  the  utter  baselessness  of  the  scandal ; 
but  she  was  too  proud  to  refute  what  she 
knew  to  be  a  cherished  lie.  She  endured, 
for  Miranda's  sake,  till  the  dark  face  grew 
lined,  and  the  black  eyes  smouldered 
dangerously,  and  she  began  to  fear  lest 
she  should  do  some  one  a  hurt.  At  last, 
having  heard  by  chance  of  that  deserted 
clearing  in  the  forest,  she  sold  out  her 
cottage  at  a  sacrifice  and  fled  from  the 
bitter  tongues. 


Chapter    IV 
Miranda  and  the  Furtive  Folk 

FROM  the  very  first  day  of  her  new 
life  at  the  clearing,  Miranda  had 
found  it  to  her  taste.  Her  mother  loved 
it  for  its  peace,  for  its  healing ;  but  to  the 
elvish  child  it  had  an  incomparably  deeper 
and  more  positive  appeal.  For  her  the 
place  was  not  solitary.  Her  wide  eyes 
saw  what  Kirstie  could  not  see ;  and  to 
her  the  forest  edges  —  which  she  was  not 
allowed  to  pass  —  were  full  of  most  satis- 
fying playmates  just  waiting  for  her  to 
invite  their  confidence.  Meanwhile,  she 
had  the  two  steers  and  the  black-and- 
white  cow  to  talk  to.  Her  mother  noticed 
that  when  she  sat  down  in  the  grass  by  the 
head  of  one  of  the  animals,  and  began  her 
low  mysterious  communication,  it  would 
stop  its  feeding  and  hearken  motionless. 
The    black-and-red    brindle,   Star,   would 

46 


Miranda  and  the   Furtive   Folk     47 

sometimes  follow  her  about  like  a  dog, 
as  if  spelled  by  the  child's  solemn  eyes. 
Then  the  solemn  eyes  on  a  sudden  would 
dance  with  light ;  her  lips  would  break 
into  a  peal  of  whimsical  mirth,  shrill  but 
not  loud ;  and  the  steer,  with  a  flick  of 
his  tail  and  an  offended  snort,  would  turn 
again  to  his  pasturing. 

In  a  hole  in  one  of  the  logs,  just  under 
the  eaves  of  the  cabin,  there  was  a  family 
of  red  squirrels,  the  four  youngsters  about 
three-fourths  grown  and  almost  ready  to 
shift  for  themselves.  No  sooner  had  the 
old  lumberman  and  his  son  gone  away 
than  the  squirrels  began  to  make  them- 
selves much  at  home.  They  saw  in 
Kirstie  a  huge  and  harmless  creature, 
whose  presence  in  the  cabin  was  useful 
to  scare  away  their  enemies.  But  in 
Miranda  they  found  a  sort  of  puzzling 
kinship.  The  two  old  squirrels  would 
twitch  up  and  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
roof,  chattering  shrilly  to  her,  flirting  their 
airy  tails,  and  stretching  down  their  heads 
to  scan  her  searchingly  with  their  keen 
protruding  eyes ;  while  Miranda,  just  be- 


48     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

low,  would  dance  excitedly  up  and  down 
in  response,  nodding  her  head,  jerking  her 
elbows,  and  chattering  back  at  them  in  a 
quick,  shrill  voice.  It  was  a  very  differ- 
ent voice  to  the  soft  murmurs  in  which 
she  talked  to  the  cattle ;  but  to  the 
squirrels  it  appeared  satisfactory.  Before 
she  had  been  a  week  at  the  clearing  the 
whole  squirrel  ^  family  seemed  to  regard 
her  as  one  of  themselves,  snatching  bread 
from  her  tiny  brown  fingers,  and  running 
up  her  skirt  to  her  shoulder  whensoever 
the  freak  possessed  them.  Kirstie,  they 
ignored — the  harmless,  necessary  Kirstie, 
mother  to  Miranda. 

No  sooner  were  they  fairly  settled  than 
the  child  discovered  an  incongruity  in  her 
gay  pink  calico  frocks,  and  got  her  mother 
to  bury  them  out  of  sight  in  the  deal 
chest  behind  the  door.  She  was  at  ease 
now  only  in  the  dull,  blue-grey  home- 
spun, which  made  her  feel  at  one  with 
her  quiet  surroundings.  Nevertheless  the 
vein  of  contradiction  which  streaked  her 
baby  heart  with  bright  inconsistencies  bade 
her  demand  always  a  bit  of  scarlet  ribbon 


Miranda  and  the   Furtive   Folk     49 

about  her  neck.  This  whim  Kirstie  hu- 
moured with  a  smile,  recognizing  in  it  a 
perpetuation  of  the  scarlet  kerchief  about 
her  own  black  hair.  As  for  Miranda's 
hair,  it  was  black  like  her  mother's  when 
seen  in  shadow ;  but  in  the  sunshine  it 
showed  certain  tawny  lights,  a  pledge  of 
her  fatherhood  to  all  who  had  known 
Frank  Craig. 

So  the  autumn  slipped  by ;  and  the 
silent  folk  of  the  wood,  watching  her 
curiously  and  unwinkingly  as  she  played 
while  her  mother  built  fences,  came  to 
know  Miranda  as  a  creature  in  some  way 
not  quite  alien  to  themselves.  They 
knew  that  she  often  saw  them  when  her 
mother's  eyes  could  not.  Perceiving  that 
her  mother  did  not  quite  understand  her, 
at  times,  when  she  tried  to  point  out 
pretty  animals  among  the  trees,  the  child 
grew  a  little  sensitive  and  reticent  on  the 
subject ;  and  the  furtive  folk,  who  had  at 
first  inclined  to  resent  her  inescapable 
vision,  presently  realized  her  reserves  and 
were  appeased.  Her  grey  little  sprite  of 
a  figure  might  have  darted  in  among  the 

E 


50    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

trees,  turned  to  a  statue,  and  become  sud- 
denly as  invisible  as  any  lynx,  or  cat,  or 
hare,  or  pine-marten  amongst  them,  ex- 
cept, indeed,  for  that  disquieting  flame 
of  scarlet  at  her  neck.  This  was  a  puzzle 
to  all  the  folk  of  the  wood,  continually 
reminding  them  that  this  quiet-flitting 
creature  did  not  really  belong  to  the 
wood  at  all,  but  to  the  great  woman  with 
the  red  about  her  head,  whose  axe  made 
so  vexing  a  clamour  amid  the  trees. 
As  for  Kroof,  the  bear,  that  bit  of  scarlet 
so  interested  her  that  one  day,  being 
curious,  she  came  much  nearer  than  she 
intended.  Miranda  saw  her,  of  course, 
and  gazed  with  wide-eyed  longing  for  the 
"great  big  dog"  as  a  playmate.  Just 
then  Kirstie  saw  her,  too  —  very  close 
at  hand,  and  very  huge. 

For  the  first  time,  Kirstie  Craig  felt 
something  like  fear,  not  for  herself,  but 
for  the  child.  Thrusting  Miranda  roughly 
behind  her,  she  clutched  her  axe,  and 
stood  motionless,  erect  and  formidable, 
awaiting  attack.  Her  great  black  eyes 
blazed  ominously  upon  the  intruder.      But 


Miranda  and  the   Furtive   Folk     51 

Kroof,  well  rilled  with  late  berries,  and 
sweet  wild  roots,  and  honeycomb,  was  in 
most  amiable  humour,  and  just  shambled 
off  lazily  when  she  saw  herself  detected  ; 
whereupon  Kirstie,  with  a  short  laugh  of 
relief,  threw  down  her  axe  and  snatched 
the  child  to  her  breast.  Miranda,  how- 
ever, was  weeping  salt  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  I  want  it,  mother,"  she  sobbed  ;  "  the 
nice  big  dog.     You  scared  it  away." 

Kirstie  had  heard  more  than  enough 
about  the  dog. 

"  Hark  now,  Miranda,"  she  said  se- 
verely, giving  her  shoulder  a  slight  shake 
to  enforce  attention.  "You  just  remem- 
ber what  I  say.  That  ain't  a  dog ;  that's 
a  bear ;  a  bear,  I  say !  And  don't  you 
ever  go  near  it,  or  it'll  eat  you  up.  Mind 
you  now,  Miranda,  or  I'll  just  whip  you 
well." 

Kirstie  was  a  little  fluttered  and  thrown 
off  her  poise  at  the  idea  of  Miranda  en- 
countering the  great  animal  alone,  and 
perhaps  attempting  to  bring  it  home  to 
play  with ;   so   she  forgot  for   a   moment 


$2     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


the  wonted  stringency  of  her  logic.  As 
for  Miranda,  she  consented  to  obey,  and 
held  her  tongue;  but  she  clung  secretly 
to  her  own  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the 
big  dog.  She  knew  very  well  that  the 
fascinating  animal  did  not  want  to  eat 
her;  and  her  mother's  order  seemed  to 
her  just  one  of  those  bits  of  maternal  per- 
versity which  nobody  can  ever  hope  to 
understand. 

The  incident,  however,  overshadowed 
the  child's  buoyant  spirits  for  the  best 
part  of  two  whole  days.  It  thrust  so  very 
far  off  the  time  she  hoped  for.  when  she 
might  know  and  talk  to  the  shy,  furtive 
folk  of  the  wood,  with  their  strange,  un- 
winking eyes.  Her  mother  kept  her  now 
ever  close  to  her  skirts.  She  had  no  one 
to  talk  to  about  the  things  her  mother 
did  not  understand,  except  the  steers  and 
the  black-and-white  cow,  and  the  rather 
irrepressible  squirrels. 

The  winter,  which  presently  fell  white 
and  soundless  and  sparkling  about  the 
lonely  cabin,  was  to  Miranda  full  of 
events,      before  the  snow  Kirstie  had  re- 


Miranda  and  the  Furtive  Folk     53 

paired  the  old  lean-to,  turning  it  into  a 
fowl-house ;  and  now  they  had  six  prim 
hens  to  occupy  it,  and  a  splendid,  flame- 
red  cock  who  crowed  most  loftily.  Mi- 
randa felt  that  this  proud  bird  despised 
her,  so  she  did  not  get  on  very  well  with 
him  ;  but  the  hens  were  amiable,  if  unin- 
teresting, and  it  was  a  perennial  joy  to 
search  out  their  eggs  in  the  loft  or  the 
corners  of  the  stalls.  Then  there  were 
the  paths  to  be  kept  clear  after  every 
snow-fall,  —  the  path  to  the  spring,  the 
path  to  the  barn  door  and  hen-house,  the 
path  to  the  woodpile.  Uncle  Dave  had 
made  her  a  hand-sled,  and  she  had  the 
exhilarating  duty  of  hauling  in  the  wood 
from  the  pile  as  fast  as  her  mother  could 
split  it.  It  was  a  spirited  race,  this,  in 
which  her  mother  somehow  always  man- 
aged to  keep  just  about  one  stick  ahead. 
And  the  fishing  —  this  was  a  great 
event,  coming  about  once  a  week,  if  the 
weather  suited.  Both  Kirstie  and  Mi- 
randa were  semi-vegetarians.  Frank  Craig 
had  been  a  decryer  of  flesh-meat,  one  who 
would  have  chosen  to  live  on  fruits  and 


54    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

roots  and  grains  and  eggs,  had  not  his 
body  cried  out  against  the  theory  of  his 
brain.  But  he  had  so  far  infected  his  wife 
with  his  prejudice  that  neither  she  nor  the 
child  now  touched  meat  in  any  form.  The 
aversion,  artificial  on  Kirstie's  part,  was 
instinctive  on  Miranda's.  But  as  for  fish 
—  fish  seemed  to  them  both  quite  another 
matter.  Even  Miranda  of  the  sympathies 
and  the  perceptions  had  no  sense  of  fellow- 
ship for  these  cold-blooded,  clammy,  un- 
pleasant things.  She  had  a  fierce  little 
delight  in  catching  them  ;  she  had  a  con- 
tented joy  in  eating  them  when  fried  to  a 
savory  brown  in  butter  and  yellow  corn- 
meal.  For  Miranda  was  very  close  to 
Nature,  and  Nature  laughs  at  consistency. 
The  fishing  in  which  Miranda  so  de- 
lighted took  place  in  winter  at  the  lake. 
When  the  weather  seemed  quite  settled, 
Kirstie  would  set  out  on  her  strong  snow- 
shoes,  with  Miranda,  on  her  fairy  fac- 
similes of  them,  striding  bravely  beside 
her,  and  follow  the  long,  white  trail  down 
to  the  lake.  Even  to  Miranda's  discern- 
ing eyes  the  trail  was  lonely  now,  for  most 


Miranda  and  the   Furtive   Folk     5^ 

of  the  forest  folk  were  either  asleep,  or 
abroad,  or  fearful  lest  their  tinted  coats 
should  reveal  them  against  the  snowy  sur- 
face. Once  in  a  while  she  detected  the 
hare  squatting  under  a  spruce  bush,  look- 
ing like  a  figure  of  snow  in  his  winter 
coat ;  and  once  or  twice,  too,  she  saw  the 
weasel,  white  now,  with  but  a  black  tip  to 
his  tail  as  a  warning  to  all  who  had  cause 
to  dread  his  cruelty.  Miranda  knew  noth- 
ing about  him,  but  she  did  not  quite  like 
the  weasel,  which  was  just  as  well,  seeing 
that  the  weasel  hated  Miranda  and  all  the 
world  besides.  As  for  the  lynx  and  the 
Drown  cat,  they  kept  warily  aloof  in  their 
winter  shyness.  The  wood-mice  were 
asleep,  —  warm,  furry  balls  buried  in  their 
dry  nests  far  from  sight ;  and  Kroof,  too, 
was  dreaming  away  the  frozen  months  in 
a  hollow  under  a  pine  root,  with  five  or 
six  feet  of  snow  drifted  over  her  door  to 
keep  her  sleep  unjarred. 

Arrived  at  the  lake,  Kirstie  would  cut 
two  holes  through  the  ice  with  her  nimble 
axe,  bait  two  hooks  with  bits  of  fat  pork, 
and  put  a  line  into  Miranda's  little  mit- 


$6     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

tened  hands.  The  trout  in  the  lake  were 
numerous  and  hungry ;  and  somehow 
Miranda's  hook  had  ever  the  more 
deadly  fascination  for  them,  and  Mi- 
randa's catch  would  outnumber  Kirstie's 
bv  often  three  to  one.  Though  her 
whole  small  being  seemed  absorbed  in 
the  fierce  game,  Miranda  was  all  the  time 
vividly  aware  of  the  white  immensity  en- 
folding her.  The  lifeless  white  level  of 
the  lake  ;  the  encircling  shores  all  white ; 
the  higher  fringe  of  trees,  black  beneath, 
but  deeply  garmented  with  white ;  the 
steep  mountain-side,  at  the  foot  of  the 
lake,  all  white ;  and  over-brooding,  glim- 
mering, opalescent,  fathomless,  the  flat 
white  arch  of  sky.  Across  the  whiteness 
of  the  mountain-side,  one  day,  Miranda 
saw  a  dark  beast  moving,  a  beast  that 
looked  to  her  like  a  great  cat.  She  saw 
it  halt,  gazing  down  at  them  ;  and  even  at 
that  distance  she  could  see  it  stretch  wide 
its  formidable  jaws.  A  second  more  and 
she  heard  the  cry  which  came  from  those 
formidable  jaws,  —  a  high,  harsh,  screech- 
ing wail,  which   amused   her   so  that   she 


Miranda  _and  the  Furtive   Folk     57 

forgot  to  land  a  fish.  But  her  mother 
seemed  troubled  at  the  sound.  She 
gazed  very  steadily  for  some  seconds  at 
the  far-off  shape,  and  then  said :  "  Pan- 
thers, Miranda  !  I  don't  mind  bears  ;  but 
with  panthers  we've  got  to  keep  our  eyes 
open.  I  reckon  we'll  get  home  before 
sundown  to-day ;  and  mind  you  keep 
right  close  by  me  every  step." 

All  this  solicitude  seemed  to  Miranda 
a  lamentable  mistake.  She  had  no  doubt 
in  her  own  mind  that  the  panther  would 
be  nice  to  play  with. 

As  I  have  said,  the  winter  was  for  Mi- 
randa full  of  events.  Twice,  as  she  was 
carrying  out  the  morning  dish  of  hot 
potatoes  and  meal  to  the  hens,  she  saw 
Ten-Tine,  the  bull  caribou,  cross  the  clear- 
ing with  measured  stately  tread,  his  curi- 
ous, patchy  antlers  held  high,  his  muzzle 
stretched  straight  ahead  of  him,  his  de- 
mure cows  at  his  heels.  This  was  before 
the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  forest.  Later 
on  in  the  winter  she  would  look  out  with 
eager  interest  every  morning  to  see  what 
visitors  had  been  about  the  cabin  during 


58     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

the  night.  Sometimes  there  was  a  fox 
track,  very  dainty,  cleanly  indented,  and 
regular,  shoving  that  the  animal  who  made 
it  knew  where  he  was  going  and  had  some- 
thing definite  in  view.  Hare  tracks  there 
were  sure  to  be  —  she  soon  came  to  rec- 
ognize those  three-toed,  triplicate  clusters 
of  impressions,  stamped  deeply  upon  the 
snow  by  the  long,  elastic  jump.  When- 
ever there  was  a  weasel  track,  —  narrow, 
finely  pointed,  treacherously  innocent. — 
it  was  sure  to  be  closely  parallel  to  that 
of  a  leaping  hare ;  and  Miranda  soon  ap- 
prehended, by  that  instinct  of  hers,  that 
the  companionship  was  not  like  to  be  well 
for  the  hare.  Once,  to  her  horror,  she 
found  that  a  hare  track  ended  suddenly, 
right  under  the  cabin  window,  in  a  blood- 
stained patch,  bestrewn  with  fur  and 
bones.  All  about  it  the  snow  was  swept 
as  if  by  wings,  and  two  strange  foot- 
prints told  the  story.  They  were  long, 
these  two  footprints  —  forked,  with  deep 
hooks  for  toes,  and  an  obscure  sort  of 
brush  mark  behind  them.  This  was 
where  the  owl   had  sat  up   on    the   snow 


Miranda  and  the  Furtive   Folk     59 

for  a  few  minutes  after  dining,  to  ponder 
on  the  merits  of  the  general  order  of 
things,  and  of  a  good  meal  in  particular. 
Miranda's  imagination  painted  a  picture 
of  the  big  bird  sitting  there  in  the  moon- 
light beside  the  bloody  bones,  his  round, 
horned  head  turning  slowly  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  his  hooked  beak  snapping 
now  and  again  in  reminiscence,  his  sharp 
eyes  wide  open  and  flaming.  There  was 
also  the  track  of  a  fox,  v/hich  had  come 
up  from  the  direction  of  the  barn,  investi- 
gated the  scene  of  action,  and  gone  off  at 
a  sharp,  decisive  angle  toward  the  woods. 
Miranda  had  no  clew  to  tell  her  how 
stealthily  that  fox  had  come,  or  how  nearly 
he  had  succeeded  in  catching  an  owl  for 
his  breakfast ;  but  from  that  morning  she 
bore  a  grudge  against  owls,  and  never  could 
hear  without  a  flash  of  wrath  their  hollow 
two-hoo-hoo-whoo-00  echoing  solemnly  from 
the  heart  of  the  pinewood. 

But  the  owl  was  not  the  only  bird  that 
Miranda  knew  that  winter.  Well  along 
in  January,  when  the  haws  were  all  gone, 
and  most   of   the   withered    rowan-berries 


6o    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

-  ■  ■        -  ■  -  —  ■ 

had  been  eaten,  and  famine  threatened 
such  of  the  bird-folk  as  had  not  jour- 
neyed south,  there  came  to  the  cabin  brisk 
foraging  flocks  of  the  ivory-billed  snow- 
bird. For  these  Miranda  had  crumbs 
ready  always,  and  as  word  of  her  bounty 
went  abroad  in  the  forest,  her  feathered 
pensioners  increased.  Even  a  hungry  crow 
would  come  now  and  then,  glossy  and  side- 
ling, watchful  and  audacious,  to  share  the 
hospitality  of  this  kind  Miranda  of  the 
crumbs.  She  liked  the  crows,  and  would 
hear  no  ill  of  them  from  her  mother ;  but 
most  of  all  she  liked  those  big,  rosy- 
headed,  trustful  children,  the  pine-gros- 
beaks, who  would  almost  let  her  take  them 
in  her  hands.  Whenever  their  wandering 
flocks  came  down  to  her,  she  held  winter 
carnival  for  them. 

During  those  days  when  it  was  not  fine 
enough  to  go  out,  —  when  the  snow  drove 
in  great  swirls  and  phantom  armies  across 
the  open,  and  a  dull  roar  came  from  the 
straining  forest,  and  the  fowls  went  to 
roost  at  middav,  and  the  cattle  munched 
contentedly  in  their  stanchions,  giad  to  be 


Miranda  and  the   Furtive   Folk     6 1 

shut  in,  —  then  the  cabin  seemed  very 
pleasant  to  Miranda.  On  such  days  the 
drifts  were  sometimes  piled  halfway  up 
the  windows.  On  such  days  the  dry  logs 
on  the  hearth  blazed  more  brightly  than 
their  wont,  and  the  flames  sang  more  mer- 
rily up  the  chimney.  On  such  days  the 
piles  of  hot  buckwheat  cakes,  drenched  in 
butter  and  brown  molasses,  tasted  more 
richly  toothsome  than  at  any  time  else, 
and  on  such  days  she  learned  to  knit. 
This  was  very  interesting.  At  first  she 
knit  gay  black-and-red  garters  for  her 
mother ;  and  then,  speedily  mastering 
this  rudimentary  process,  she  was  fairly 
launched  on  a  stocking,  with  four  needles. 
The  stocking,  of  course,  was  for  her 
mother,  who  would  not  find  fault  if  it 
were  knitted  too  tightly  here  and  too 
loosely  there.  As  for  Kirstie  herself,  her 
nimble  needles  would  click  all  day,  turn- 
ing out  socks  and  mittens  of  wonderful 
thickness  to  supply  the  steady  market  of 
the  lumber  camps. 

One  night,  after  just  such  a  cosey,  shut- 
in    day,     Miranda   was    awakened    by   a 


62     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

scratching  sound  on  the  roof.  Through- 
out the  cold  weather  Miranda  slept  with 
her  mother  in  the  main  room,  in  a  broad 
new  bunk  which  had  been  substituted  for 
the  narrow  one  wherein  Old  Dave  had 
slept  on  his  first  visit  to  the  clearing. 
Miranda  caught  her  mother's  arm,  and 
shook,  it  gently.  But  Kirstie  was  already 
awake,  lying  with  wide  eyes,  listening. 

"  What's  that,  mother,  trying  to  get 
in  ?  "  asked  the  child  in  a  whisper. 

"  Hush-sh-sh,"  replied  Kirstie,  laying 
her  fingers  on  the  child's  mouth. 

The  scratching  came  louder  now,  as 
the  light  snow  was  swept  clear  and  the 
inquisitive  claws  reached  the  bark.  Then 
it  stopped.  After  a  second  or  two  of 
silence  there  was  a  loud,  blowing  sound, 
as  if  the  visitor  were  clearing  his  nostrils 
from  the  snow  and  cold.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  two  or  three  long,  penetrating 
sniffs,  so  curiously  hungry  in  their  sug- 
gestion that  even  Miranda's  dauntless  lit- 
tle heart  beat  very  fast.  As  for  Kirstie, 
she  was  decidedly  nervous.  Springing 
out  of  bed  she  ran  to   the  hearth,  raked 


Miranda  and  the  Furtive  Folk     63 

the  coals  from  the  ashes,  fanned  them, 
heaped  on  birch  bark  and  dry  wood,  and 
in  a  moment  had  a  great  blaze  roaring  up 
the  chimney-throat.  The  glow  from  the 
windows  streamed  far  out  across  the  snow. 
To  the  visitor  it  proved  disconcerting. 
There  was  one  more  sharp  rattle  of  claws 
upon  the  roof,  then  a  fluffy  thump  below 
the  eaves.  The  snow  had  stopped  falling 
hours  before;  and  when,  at  daylight,  Kirstie 
opened  the  door,  there  was  the  deep  hollow 
where  the  panther  had  jumped  down,  and 
there  was  the  floundering  trail  where  he 
had  fled. 

This  incident  made  Miranda  amend, 
in  some  degree,  her  first  opinion  of  pan- 
thers. 


Chaptei    V 
Kroof,  the  She-bear 

SPRING  came  early  to  the  clearing 
that  year.  Kirstie's  autumn  fur- 
rows, dark  and  steaming,  began  to  show 
in  patches  through  the  diminished  snow. 
The  chips  before  the  house  and  the  litter 
about  the  barn,  drawing  the  sun  strongly, 
were  first  of  all  uncovered ;  and  over 
them,  as  to  the  conquest  of  new  worlds, 
the  haughty  cock  led  forth  his  dames  to 
scratch.  "  Saunders,"  Miranda  had  called 
him,  in  remembrance  of  a  strutting  beau 
at  the  Settlement ;  and  with  the  advent 
of  April  cheer,  and  an  increasing  abun- 
dance of  eggs,  and  an  ever  resounding 
cackle  from  his  complacent  partlets,  his 
conceit  became  insufferable.  One  morn- 
ing, when  something  she  did  offended  his 
dignity,  he  had  the  presumption  to  face 
her  with  beak  advanced  and  wide-ruffled 

64 


Kroof,  the  She-bear  65 


neck  feathers.  But  Saunders  did  not 
know  Miranda.  Quick  as  a  flash  of 
light  she  seized  him  by  the  legs,  whirled 
him  around  her  head,  and  flung  him  head- 
long, squawking  with  fear  and  shame,  upon 
his  own  dunghill.  It  took  him  a  good 
hour  to  recover  his  self-esteem,  but  after 
that  Miranda  stood  out  in  his  eyes  as  the 
one  creature  in  the  world  to  be  respected. 

When  the  clearing  was  quite  bare,  ex- 
cept along  the  edges  of  the  forest,  and 
Kirstie  was  again  at  work  on  her  fencing, 
the  black-and-white  cow  gave  birth  to  a 
black-and-white  calf,  which  Miranda  at 
once  claimed  as  her  own  property.  It 
was  a  very  wobbly,  knock-kneed  little 
heifer ;  but  Miranda  admired  it  im- 
mensely, and  with  lofty  disregard  of  its 
sex,  christened  it   Michael. 

About  this  time  the  snow  shrank  away 
from  her  hollow  under  the  pine  root,  and 
Kroof  came  forth  to  sun  herself.  She 
had  lived  all  winter  on  nothing  but  the 
fat  stored  up  on  the  spaces  of  her  capa- 
cious frame.  Nevertheless  she  was  not 
famished  —  she  had  still  a  reserve  to  come 


66    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


and  go  on,  till  food  should  be  abundant. 
A  few  days  after  waking  up  she  bore  a 
cub.  It  was  the  custom  of  her  kind  to 
bear  two  cubs  at  a  birth  ;  but  Krbof, 
besides  being  by  long  odds  the  biggest 
she-bear  ever  known  in  that  region,  had  a 
pronounced  individuality  of  her  own,  and 
was  just  as  well  satisfied  with  herself  over 
one  cub  as  over  two. 

The  hollow  under  the  pine  root  was 
warm  and  softly  lined  —  a  condition  quite 
indispensable  to  the  newcomer,  which 
was  about  as  unlike  a  bear  as  any  baby 
creature  of  its  size  could  well  manage  to 
be.  It  was  blind,  helpless,  whimpering, 
more  shapeless  and  clumsy-looking  than 
the  clumsiest  conceivable  pup,  and  almost 
naked.  Its  tender,  hairless  hide  looked  a 
poor  thing  to  confront  the  world  with  ; 
but  its  appetite  was  astounding,  and 
Kroof's  milk  inexhaustible.  In  a  few 
days  a  soft  dark  fur  began  to  appear.  As 
the  mother  sat,  hour  by  hour,  watching 
it  and  suckling  it,  half  erect  upon  her 
haunches,  her  fore  legs  braced  wide  apart, 
her  head  stretched  as  far  down  as  possible, 


Kroof,  the  She-hear  67 

her  narrow  red  tongue  hanging  out  to  one 
side,  her  eyes  half  closed  in  rapture,  it 
seemed  to  grow  visibly  beneath  her  ab- 
sorbing gaze.  Before  four  weeks  had 
passed,  the  cub  was  covered  with  a  jet 
black  coat,  soft  and  glossy.  This  being 
the  case,  he  thought  it  time  to  open  his 
eyes  and  look  about. 

He  was  now  about  the  size  of  a  small 
cat,  but  of  a  much  heavier  build.  His 
head,  at  this  age,  was  shorter  for  its 
breadth  than  his  mother's ;  the  ears  much 
larger,  fan-like  and  conspicuous.  His 
eyes,  very  softly  vague  at  first,  soon 
acquired  a  humorous,  mischievous  ex- 
pression, which  went  aptly  with  the  erect, 
inquisitive  ears.  Altogether  he  was  a 
fine  baby  —  a  fair  justification  of  Kroof 's 
pride. 

The  spring  being  now  fairly  forward, 
and  pale,  whitish-green  shoots  upthrust- 
ing  themselves  numerously  through  the 
dead  leaves,  and  the  big  crimson  leaf-bud 
of  the  skunk-cabbage  vividly  punctuating 
the  sombreness  of  the  swamp,  Kroof  led 
her  infant  forth  tc  view  their  world.     He 


68     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

had  no  such  severe  and  continued  educa- 
tion to  undergo  as  that  which  falls  to  the 
lot  of  other  youngsters  among  the  folk  of 
the  ancient  wood.  For  those  others  the 
first  lesson,  the  hardest  and  the  most 
tremendous  in  its  necessity,  was  how  to 
avoid  their  enemies.  With  this  lesson 
ill-learned,  all  others  found  brief  term  ; 
for  the  noiseless  drama,  in  which  all  the 
folk  of  the  forest  had  their  parts,  moved 
ever,  through  few  scenes  or  through  many, 
to  a  tragic  close.  But  the  bear,  being  for 
the  most  part  dominant,  had  his  immuni- 
ties. Even  the  panther,  swift  and  fierce 
and  masterful,  never  deliberately  sought 
quarrel  with  the  bear,  being  mindful  of 
his  disastrous  clutch  and  the  lightning 
sweep  of  his  paw.  The  bear-cub,  there- 
fore, going  with  its  mother  till  almost  full 
grown,  gave  no  thought  at  all  to  enemies ; 
and  the  cub  with  such  a  giantess  as  Kroof 
for  its  mother  might  safely  make  a  mock 
even  at  panthers.  Kroof 's  cub  had  thus 
but  simple  things  to  learn,  following  close 
at  his  mother's  flank.  During  the  first 
blind  weeks  of  his  cubhood  he  had,  indeed, 


Kroof,  the  She-bear  69 

to  acquire  the  prime  virtue  of  silence,  which 
was  not  easy,  for  he  loved  to  whimper  and 
grumble  in  a  comfortable  little  fashion  of 
his  own.  This  was  all  right  while  Kroof 
was  at  home  ;  but  when  she  was  out  forag- 
ing, then  silence  was  the  thing.  This  he 
learned,  partlv  from  Kroof 's  admonitions, 
partly  from  a  deep-seated  instinct ;  and 
whenever  he  was  left  alone,  he  held  his 
tongue.  There  was  always  the  possibility, 
slight  but  unpleasant,  of  a  fox  or  a  brown 
cat  noting  Kroof's  absence,  and  seizing 
the  chance  to  savour  a  delicate  morsel  of 
sucking  bear. 

Wandering  the  silent  woods  with  Kroof, 
the  cub  would  sniff  carefully  at  the  moist 
earth  and  budding  shoots  wheresoever  his 
mother  stopped  to  dig.  He  thus  learned 
where  to  find  the  starchv  roots  which 
form  so  large  a  part  of  the  bear's  food  in 
spring.  He  found  out  the  important  dif- 
ference between  the  sweet  groundnuts 
and  the  fiery  bitter  bulb  of  the  arum,  or 
Indian  turnip  ;  and  he  learned  to  go 
over  the  grassy  meadows  by  the  lake  and 
dig  unerringly  for  the  wild  bean's  nour- 


70    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


ishing  tubers.  He  discovered,  also,  what 
old  stumps  to  tear  apart  when  he  wanted 
a  pleasantly  acid  tonic  dose  of  the  larvae 
of  the  wood-ant.  Among  these  serious 
occupations  he  would  gambol  between  his 
mother's  feet,  or  caper  hilariously  on  his 
hind  legs.  Soon  he  would  have  been 
taught  to  detect  a  bee  tree,  and  to  rob  it 
of  its  delectable  stores  without  getting  his 
eyes  stung  out;  but  just  then  the  myste- 
rious forest  fates  dropped  the  curtain  on 
his  merry  little  play,  as  a  reminder  that 
not  even  for  the  great  black  bear  could 
the  rule  of  doom  be  relaxed. 

Kroof's  first  wanderings  with  the  cub 
were  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  clear- 
ing, where  both  were  sometimes  seen  by 
Miranda.  The  sight  of  the  cub  so  over- 
joyed her  that  she  departed  from  her 
usual  reticence  as  to  the  forest-folk,  and 
'old  her  mother  about  the  lovely,  glossy 
little  dog  that  the  nice,  great  big  dog  took 
about  with  her.  The  only  result  was  that 
Kirstie  gave  her  a  sharp  warning. 

"  Dog!"  she  exclaimed  severely  ;  "didn't 
I  tell  you,  Miranda,  it  was  a  bear?    Bears 


Kroof,  the  She-bear  71 

are  mostly  harmless,  if  you  leave  them 
alone;  but  an  old  bear  with  a  cub  is  mighty 
ugly.  Mind  what  I  say  now,  you  keep 
by  me  and  don't  go  too  nigh  the  edge  of 
the  woods." 

And  so,  for  the  next  tew  weeks,  Miranda 
was  watched  very  strictly,  lest  her  child- 
ish daring  should  involve  her  with  the 
bears. 

Along  in  the  summer  Kroof  began  to 
lead  the  cub  wider  afield.  The  longer 
journeys  vexed  the  little  animal  at  first, 
and  tired  him;  so  that  sometimes  he  would 
throw  himself  down  on  his  back,  with 
pinky-white  soles  of  protest  in  the  air, 
and  refuse  to  go  a  step  farther.  But  in 
spite  of  the  appeal  of  his  quizzical  little 
black  snout,  big  ears,  and  twinkling  eyes, 
old  Kroof  would  box  him  sternly  till  he 
was  glad  enough  to  jump  up  and  renew 
the  march.  With  the  exercise  he  got  a 
little  leaner,  but  much  harder,  and  soon 
came  to  delight  in  the  widest  wandering. 
Nothing  could  tire  him,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  journey  he  would  chase  rabbits,  or 
weasels,  or  other  elusive  creatures,  till  con- 


72     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

victed  of  futility  by  his  mother's  sarcastic 
comments. 

These  wide  wanderings  were,  indeed, 
the  making  of  him,  so  that  he  promised  to 
rival  Kroof  herself  in  prowess  and  stature; 
but  alas  !  poor  cub,  they  were  also  his  un- 
doing. Had  he  stayed  at  home  —  but 
even  that  might  have  little  availed,  for 
among  the  folk  of  the  wood  it  is  right  at 
home  that  fate  most  surely  strikes. 

One  day  they  two  were  exploring  far 
over  in  the  next  valley  —  the  valley  of 
the  Quah-Davic,  a  tract  little  familiar  to 
Kroof  herself.  At  the  noon  hour  Kroof 
lay  down  in  a  little  hollow  of  coolness 
beside  a  spring  that  drip-drop,  drip-drop, 
drip-dropped  from  the  face  of  a  green  rock. 
The  cub,  however,  went  untiringly  explor- 
ing the  thickets  for  fifty  yards  about,  o'lt 
of  sight,  indeed,  but  scrupulously  never 
out  of  ear-shot. 

Near  one  of  these  thickets  his  nostrils 
caught  a  new  and  enthralling  savour.  He 
had  never,  in  his  brief  life,  smelled  any- 
thing at  all  like  it,  but  an  unerring  instinct 
told  him  it  was  the  smell  of  something  very 


Kroof,  the  She-bear  73 

good  to  eat.  Pushing  through  the  leafage 
he  came  upon  the  source  of  the  fragrance. 
Under  a  slanting  structure  of  logs  he  found 
a  piece  of  flesh,  yellowish-white,  streaked 
thickly  with  dark  reddish-brown,  —  and, 
oh,  so  sweet  smelling  !  It  was  stuck  tempt- 
ingly on  a  forked  point  of  wood.  His  ears 
stood  up  very  wide  and  high  in  his  eager- 
ness. i~Iis  sensitive  nostrils  wrinkled  as 
he  sniffed  at  the  tempting  find.  He  de- 
cided that  he  would  just  taste  it,  and  then 
go  fetch  his  mother.  But  it  was  a  little 
high  up  for  him.  He  rose,  set  his  small 
white  teeth  into  it,  clutched  it  with  his  soft 
forepaws,  and  flung  his  whole  weight  upon 
it  to  pull  it  down. 

Kroof,  dozing  in  her  hollow  of  coolness, 
heard  a  small  agonized  screech,  cut  short 
horribly.  On  the  instant  her  great  body 
went  tearing  in  a  panic  through  the  under- 
brush. She  found  poor  cub  crushed  flat 
under  the  huge  timbers  of  "a  dead -fall," 
his  glossy  head  and  one  paw  sticking  out 
piteously,  his  little  red  tongue  protruding 
from  his  distorted  mouth. 

Kroof  needed  no  second  look  to  know 


74    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

in  her  heart  he  was  dead,  stone  dead ;  but 
in  the  rage  of  her  grief  she  would  not  ac- 
knowledge it.  She  tore  madly  at  the 
great  timber, — so  huge  a  thing  to  set  to 
crush  so  small  a  life,  —  and  so  astonishing 
was  the  strength  of  her  claws  and  her  vast 
forearms  that  in  the  course  of  half  an 
hour  she  had  the  trap  fairly  demolished. 
Softly  she  removed  the  crushed  and  shape- 
less body,  licking  the  mouth,  the  nostrils, 
the  pitifully  staring  eyes ;  snuggling  it 
lightly  as  a  breath,  and  moaning  over  it. 
She  would  lift  the  head  a  little  with  her 
paw,  and  redouble  her  caresses  as  it  fell 
limply  aside.  Then  it  grew  cold.  This 
was  testimony  she  could  not  pretend  to 
ignore.  She  ceased  the  caresses  which 
proved  so  vain  to  keep  warmth  in  the  little 
body  she  loved.  With  her  snout  held 
high  in  air  she  turned  around  slowly  twice, 
as  if  in  an  appeal  to  some  power  not  clearly 
apprehended ;  then,  without  another  glance 
at  her  dead,  she  rushed  off  madly  through 
the  forest. 

All  night  she  wandered  aimlessly,  hither 
and  thither  through  tile  low  Quah-Davic 


Kroof,  the  She-bear  75 

valley,  over  the  lower  slopes  of  the  moun- 
tain, through  tracts  where  she  had  never 
been,  but  of  which  she  took  no  note;  and 
toward  noon  of  the  following  day  she  found 
herself  once  more  in  the  ancient  wood,  not 
far  from  the  clearing.  She  avoided  widely 
the  old  den  under  the  pine  root,  and  at 
last  threw  herself  down,  worn  out  and 
with  unsuckled  teats  fiercely  aching,  behind 
the  trunk  of  a  fallen  hemlock. 

She  slept  heavily  for  an  hour  or  two. 
Then  she  was  awakened  by  the  crying  of 
a  child.  She  knew  it  at  once  for  Mi- 
randa's voice ;  and  being  in  some  way  stirred 
by  it,  in  spite  of  the  preoccupation  of  her 
pain,  she  got  up  and  moved  noiselessly 
toward  the  sound. 


Chapter  VI 
The  Initiation  of  Miranda 

THAT  same  day,  just  after  noon- 
meat,  when  Miranda  had  gone  out 
with  the  scraps  in  a  yellow  bowl  to  feed 
the  hens,  Kirstie  had  been  taken  with 
what  the  people  at  the  Settlement  would 
have  called  "  a  turn."  All  the  morning 
she  had  felt  unusually  oppressed  by  the 
heat,  but  had  thought  little  of  it.  Now, 
as  she  was  wiping  the  dishes,  she  quite 
unaccountably  dropped  one  of  them  on 
the  floor.  The  crash  aroused  her.  She 
saw  with  a  pang  that  it  was  Miranda's 
little  plate  of  many  colours.  Then  things 
turned  black  about  her.  She  just  managed 
to  reel  across  to  the  bunk,  and  straight- 
way fell  upon  it  in  a  kind  of  faint.  From 
this  state  she  passed  into  a  heavy  sleep, 
which  lasted  for  several  hours,  and  prob- 
ably saved  her  from  some  violent  sickness. 

76 


The   Initiation  of  Miranda  77 

When  Miranda  had  fed  the  hens  she 
did  not  go  straight  back  to  her  mother. 
Instead,  she  wandered  off  toward  the 
edge  of  the  dark  firwood,  where  it  came 
down  close  behind  the  cabin.  The  broad 
light  of  the  open  fields,  now  green  with 
buckwheat,  threw  a  living  illumination 
far  in  among  the  cool  arcades. 

Between  the  straight  grey  trunks  Mi- 
randa's  clear   eyes   saw  something   move. 

She  liked  it  very  much  indeed.  It 
looked  to  her  extremely  like  a  cat,  only 
larger  than  any  cat  she  had  seen  at  the 
Settlement,  taller  on  its  legs,  and  with  a 
queer,  thick  stump  of  a  tail.  In  fact,  it 
was  a  cat,  the  brown  cat,  or  lesser  Jynx. 
Its  coat  was  a  red  brown,  finely  mottled 
with  a  paler  shade.  It  had  straight  brushes 
of  bristles  on  the  tips  of  its  ears,  like  its 
big  cousin,  the  Canada  lynx,  only  much 
less  conspicuous  than  his ;  and  the  expres- 
sion on  the  moonlike  round  of  its  face 
was  both  fierce  and  shy.  But  it  was  a  cat, 
plainly  enough;  and  Miranda's  heart  went 
out  to  it,  as  it  sat  up  there  in  the  shadows, 
watching  her  steadily  with  wide  pale  eyes. 


78     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


"  Oh,  pretty  pussy  !  pretty  pussy  !  " 
called  Miranda,  stretching  out  her  hands 
to  it  coaxingly,  and  running  into  the 
wood. 

The  brown  cat  waited  unwinking  till 
she  was  about  ten  paces  off,  then  turned 
and  darted  deeper  into  the  shadows. 
When  it  was  all  but  out  of  sight  it 
stopped,  turned  again,  and  sat  up  to 
watch  the  eager  child.  It  seemed  curious 
as  to  the  bit  of  scarlet  at  her  neck.  Mi- 
randa was  now  absorbed  in  the  pursuit, 
and  sanguine  of  catching  the  beautiful 
pussy.  This  time  she  was  suffered  to 
come  almost  within  grasping  distance, 
before  the  animal  again  wheeled  with  an 
angry  pfuff  and  darted  away.  Disap- 
pointed, but  not  discouraged,  Miranda 
followed  again;  ?nd  the  little  play  was 
repeated,  with  slight  variation,  till  her 
great  eyes  were  full  of  blinding  tears,  and 
she  was  ready  to  drop  with  weariness. 
Then  the  malicious  cat,  tired  of  the  game 
and  no  longer  curious  about  the  ribbon, 
vanished  altogether;  and  Miranda  sat 
down   to  cry. 


The  Initiation  of  Miranda         79 

But  she  was  not  a  child  to  make  much 
fuss  over  a  small  disappointment.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  she  jumped  up,  dried 
her  eyes  with  the  backs  of  her  tiny  fists, 
and  started,  as  she  thought,  straight  for 
home.  At  first  she  ran,  thinking  her 
mother  might  be  troubled  at  her  absence. 
But  not  coming  to  the  open  as  soon  as 
she  expected,  she  stopped,  looked  about 
her  very  carefully,  and  then  walked  for- 
ward with  continual  circumspection.  She 
walked  on,  and  on,  till  she  knew  she  had 
gone  far  enough  to  reach  home  five  times 
over.  Her  feet  faltered,  and  then  she 
stood  quite  still,  helplessly.  She  knew 
that  she  was  lost.  All  at  once  the  ancient 
wood,  the  wood  she  had  longed  for,  the 
wood  whose  darkness  she  had  never 
feared,  became  lonely,  menacing,  terrible. 
She  broke  into  loud  wailing. 

This  is  what  Kroof  had  heard  and  was 
coming  to  investigate.  But  other  ears 
heard  it,  too. 

A  tawny  form,  many  times  larger  than 
the  perfidious  brown  cat,  but  not  alto- 
gether unlike  it  in  shape,  crept  stealthily 


80    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

toward  the  sound.  Though  his  limbs 
looked  heavy,  his  paws  large  in  com- 
parison with  his  lank  bodv  and  small, 
flat,  cruel  head,  his  movements  neverthe- 
less were  noiseless  as  light.  At  each  low- 
stooping,  sinuous  step,  his  tail  twitched 
nervously.  When  he  caught  sight  of 
the  crying  child  he  stopped,  and  then 
crept  up  more  stealthily  than  before, 
crouching  so  low  that  his  belly  almost 
touched  the  ground,  his  neck  stretched 
out  in  line  with  his  tail. 

He  made  absolutely  no  sound,  yet  some- 
thing within  Miranda's  sensitive  brain 
heard  him,  before  he  was  quite  within 
springing  distance.  She  stopped  her  cry- 
ing, glanced  suddenly  around,  and  fixed 
a  darkly  clear  look  upon  his  glaring  green 
eyes.  Poor  little  frightened  and  lonely 
child  though  she  was,  there  was  yet  some- 
thing subtly  disturbing  to  the  beast  in 
that  steady  gaze  of  hers.  It  was  the 
smpty  gloom,  the  state  of  being  lost 
which  had  made  Miranda's  fear.  Of  an 
animal,  however  fierce,  she  had  no  in- 
stinctive   terror ;    and    now,    though    she 


The   Initiation  of  Miranda         81 

knew  that  the  cruel-eyed  beast  before  her 
was  the  panther,  it  was  a  sort  of  indig- 
nant curiosity  that  was  uppermost  in  her 
mind. 

The  beast  shifted  his  eyes  uneasily 
under  her  unwavering  look.  He  experi- 
enced a  moment's  indecision  as  to  whether 
or  not  it  was  well,  after  all,  to  meddle 
with  this  unterrifled,  clear-gazing  creature. 
Then  an  anger  grew  within  him.  He  fixed 
his  hypnotizing  stare  more  resolutely,  and 
lashed  his  tail  with  angry  jerks.  He  was 
working  himself  up  to  the  final  and  fatal 
spring,  while  Miranda  watched  him. 

Just  then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
Out  from  behind  a  boulder,  whence  she 
had  been  eying  the  situation,  shambled 
the  huge  black  form  of  Kroof.  She  was 
at  Miranda's  side  in  an  instant ;  and  ris- 
ing upon  her  hind  quarters,  a  towering, 
indomitable  bulk,  she  squealed  defiance  to 
the  panther.  As  soon  as  Miranda  saw 
her  "great  big  dog,"  —  which  she  knew 
quite  well,  however,  to  be  a  bear,  —  she 
seemed  to  realize  how  frightened  she  had 
been  of  the  panther;  and  she  recognized 

G 


82     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

that  strong  defence  had  come.  With  a 
convulsive  sob  she  sprang  and  hid  her 
tear-stained  little  face  in  the  bear's  shaggy 
flank,  clutching  at  the  soft  fur  with  both 
hands.  To  this  impetuous  embrace  Kroof 
paid  no  attention,  but  continued  to  glower 
menacingly  at  the  panther. 

As  for  the  panther,  he  was  unaffectedly 
astonished.  He  lost  his  stealthy,  crouch- 
ing, concentrated  attitude,  and  rose  to  his 
full  height ;  lifted  his  head,  dropped  his 
tail,  and  stared  at  the  phenomenon.  If 
this  child  was  a  protegee  of  Kroof 's,  he 
wanted  none  of  her  ;  for  it  would  be  a  day 
of  famine  indeed  when  he  would  wish  to 
force  conclusions  with  the  giant  she-bear. 
Moreover,  he  recognized  some  sort  of 
power  and  prerogative  in  Miranda  her- 
self, some  right  of  sovereignty,  as  it  were, 
which  had  made  it  distinctly  hard  for  him 
to  attack  her  even  while  she  had  no  other 
defence  than  her  disconcerting  gaze. 
Now,  however,  he  saw  clearly  that  there 
was  something  very  mysterious  indeed 
about  her.  He  decided  that  it  would  be 
well  to    have  an    understanding  with    his 


The   Initiation  of  Miranda         83 

mate — who  was  more  savage  though  less 
powerful  than  himself —  that  the  child 
should  not  be  meddled  with,  no  matter 
what  chance  should  arise.  With  this  con- 
clusion he  wheeled  about,  and  walked  off 
indifferently,  moving  with  head  erect  and 
a  casual  air.  One  would  hardly  have 
known  him  for  the  stealthy  monster  of 
five  minutes  before. 

When  he  was  gone  Kroof  lay  down  on 
her  side  and  gently  coaxed  Miranda  against 
her  body.  Her  bereaved  heart  went  out 
to  the  child.  Her  swollen  teats,  too,  were 
hotly  aching,  and  she  had  a  kind  of  hope 
that  Miranda  would  ease  that  hurt.  But 
this,  of  course,  never  came  within  scope 
of  the  child's  remotest  idea.  In  every 
other  respect,  however,  she  showed  her- 
self most  appreciative  of  Kroof's  atten- 
tions, stroking  her  with  light  little  hands, 
and  murmuring  to  her  much  musical 
endearment,  to  which  Kroof  lent  earnest 
ear.  Then,  laying  her  head  on  the  fine 
fur  of  the  bear's  belly,  she  suddenly  went 
fast  asleep,  being  wearied  by  her  wander- 
ings and  her  emotions. 


84    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  toward  milking- 
time,  Kirstie  aroused  herself.  She  sat  up 
with  a  startled  air  in  her  bunk  in  the 
corner  of  the  cabin.  Through  the  win- 
dow came  the  rays  of  the  westering  sun. 
She  felt  troubled  at  having  been  so  long 
asleep.  And  where  could  Miranda  be? 
She  arose,  tottering  for  a  moment,  but 
soon  found  herself  steady ;  and  then  she 
realized  that  she  had  slept  off  a  sickness. 
She  went  to  the  door.  The  hens  were 
diligently  scratching  in  the  dust,  and 
Saunders  eyed  her  with  tolerance.  At  the 
fence  beyond  the  barn  the  black-and-white 
cow  lowed  for  the  milking  ;  and  from  her 
tether  at  the  other  side  of  the  buckwheat 
field,  Michael,  the  calf,  bleated  for  her 
supper  of  milk  and  hay  tea.  But  Miranda 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Miranda  !  "  she  called.  And  then 
louder,  —  and  yet  louder,  —  and  at  last 
with  a  piercing  wail  of  anguish,  as  it  burst 
upon  her  that  Miranda  was  gone.  The 
sunlit  clearing,  the  grey  cabin,  the  dark 
forest  edges,  all  seemed  to  whirl  and  swim 
about  her  for  an  instant.      It  was  only  for 


The  Initiation  of  Miranda         85 

an  instant.  Then  she  snatched  up  the 
axe  from  the  chopping  log,  and  with  a 
sure  instinct  darted  into  that  tongue  of 
fir  woods  just  behind  the  house. 

Straight  ahead  she  plunged,  as  if  fol- 
lowing a  plain  trail ;  though  in  truth  she 
was  little  learned  in  woodcraft,  and  by  her 
mere  eyes  could  scarce  have  tracked  an 
elephant.  But  her  heart  was  clutched  by 
a  grip  of  ice,  and  she  went  as  one  tranced. 
All  at  once,  however,  over  the  mossy 
crest  of  a  rock,  she  saw  a  sight  which 
brought  her  to  a  standstill.  Her  eyes 
and  her  mouth  opened  wide  in  sheer 
amazement.  Then  the  terrible  tension 
relaxed.  A  strong  shudder  passed  through 
her,  and  she  was  her  steadfast  self  again. 
A  smile  broke  up  the  sober  lines  of  her 
face. 

"  Sure  enough,"  she  muttered  ;  "  the 
child  was  right.  She  knows  a  sight  more 
about  the  beasts  than  I  do." 

And  this  is  what  she  saw.  Through 
the  hoary  arcades  of  the  firwood  walked 
a  huge  black  bear,  with  none  other  than 
Miranda  trotting  by  its  side,  and  playfully 


86    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

stroking  its  rich  coat.  The  great  animal 
would  pause  from  time  to  time,  merely  to 
nuzzle  at  the  child  with  its  snout  or  lick 
her  hand  with  its  narrow  red  tongue ;  but 
the  course  it  was  making  was  straight  for 
the  cabin.  Kirstie  stood  motionless  for 
some  minutes,  watching  the  strange  scene; 
then,  stepping  out  from  her  shelter,  she 
hastened  after  them.  So  engrossed  were 
they  with  each  other  that  she  came  up 
undiscovered  to  within  some  twenty  paces 
of  them.     Then  she  called  out :  — 

"  Miranda,  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

The  child  stopped,  looked  around,  but 
still  clung  to  Kroof's  fur. 

"  Oh,  mother ! ,:  she  cried,  eager  and 
breathless,  and  trying  to  tell  everything 
at  once,  "I  was  all  lost  —  and  I  was  just 
going  to  be  eaten  up  —  and  the  dear,  good, 
big  bear  came  and  frightened  the  panther 
away — and  we  were  just  going  home — and 
do  come  and  speak  to  the  dear,  lovely,  big 
bear  !  Oh,  don't  let  it  go  away  !  donU  let 
it!" 

But  on  this  point  Kroof  had  her  own 
views.     It  was  Miranda  she  had  adopted, 


The   Initiation  of  Miranda  87 

not  Kirstie ;  and  she  felt  a  kind  of  jeal- 
ousy of  Miranda's  mother.  Even  while 
Miranda  was  speaking,  the  bear  swung 
aside  and  briskly  shambled  off,  leaving 
the  child  half  in  tears. 

It  was  a  thrilling  story  which  Miranda 
had  to  tell  her  mother  that  evening,  while 
the  black-and-white  cow  was  getting  milked, 
and  while  Michael,  the  calf,  was  having  its 
supper  of  milk  and  hay  tea.  It  made  a 
profound  impression  on  Kirstie's  quick 
and  tolerant  mind.  She  at  once  realized 
the  value  to  Miranda  of  such  an  affection 
as  Kroof's.  Most  mothers  would  have 
been  crazed  with  foolish  fear  at  the  situa- 
tion, but  Kirstie  Craig  was  of  no  such 
weak  stuff.  She  saw  in  it  only  a  strong 
shield  for  Miranda  against  the  gravest 
perils  of  the  wood. 


Chapter  VII 
The  Intimates 

AFTER  this  experience  Miranda  felt 
herself  initiated,  as  she  had  so  longed 
to  be,  into  the  full  fellowship  of  the  folk 
of  the  ancient  wood.  Almost  every  day 
Kroof  came  prowling  about  the  edges  of 
the  clearing.  Miranda  was  sure  to  catch 
sight  of  her  before  long  and  run  to  her 
with  joyous  caresses.  Farther  than  a  few 
steps  into  the  open  the  big  bear  would  not 
come,  having  no  desire  to  cultivate  Kirstie, 
or  the  cabin,  or  the  cattle,  or  aught  that 
appertained  to  civilization.  But  Kirstie, 
after  watching  from  a  courteous  distance 
a  few  of  these  strange  interviews,  wisely 
gave  the  child  a  little  more  latitude. 
Miranda  was  permitted  to  go  a  certain 
fixed  distance  into  the  wood,  but  never  so 
far  as  quite  to  lose  sight  of  the  cabin  ;  and 
this  permission  was  only  for  such  times  as 

88 


The  Intimates  89 

she  was  with  Kroof.  Kirstie  knew  some- 
thing about  wild  animals ;  and  she  knew 
that  the  black  bear,  when  it  formed  an 
attachment,  was  inalienably  and  uncalcu- 
latingly  loyal  to  it. 

As  sometimes  happens  in  an  affection 
which  runs  counter  to  the  lines  of  kinship, 
Kroof  seemed  more  passionately  devoted 
to  the  child  than  she  had  been  to  her  own 
cub.  She  would  gaze  with  eyes  of  rap- 
ture, her  mouth  hanging  half  open  in  fool- 
ish fondness,  while  Miranda,  playing  about 
her,  acquired  innumerable  secrets  of  forest- 
lore.  Whatsoever  Miranda  wanted  her  to 
do,  she  would  strive  to  do,  as  soon  as  she 
could  make  out  what  it  was  ;  for,  in  truth, 
Miranda's  speech,  though  very  pleasant 
to  her  ear,  was  not  very  intelligible  to  her 
brain.  On  one  point,  however,  she  was 
inflexible.  Perhaps  for  a  distance  of  thrice 
her  own  length  she  would  follow  Miranda 
out  into  the  clearing,  but  farther  than  that 
she  would  not  go.  Persuasions,  petulance, 
argument,  tears  —  Miranda  tried  them  all, 
but  in  vain.  When  Miranda  tried  going 
behind    and    pushing,   or    going   in   front 


90     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


and  pulling,  the  beast  liked  it,  and  her 
eyes  would  blink  humorously.  But  her 
mind  was  made  up.  This  obstinacy,  so 
disappointing  to  Miranda,  met  with  Kirs- 
tie's  unqualified  but  unexpressed  approval. 
She  did  not  want  Kroof's  ponderous  bulk 
hanging  about  the  house  or  loafing  around 
and  getting  in  the  way  when  she  was  at 
work  in  the  fields. 

Though  Kroof  was  averse  to  civiliza- 
tion, she  was  at  the  same  time  sagacious 
enough  to  see  that  she  could  not  have 
Miranda  always  with  her  in  the  woods. 
She  knew  very  well  that  the  tall  woman 
with  red  on  her  head  was  a  very  superior 
and  mysterious  kind  of  animal,  —  and 
that  Miranda  was  her  cub, — a  most  su- 
perior kind  of  cub,  and  always  to  be 
regarded  with  a  secret  awe,  but  still  a 
cub;,  and  belonging  to  the  tall  woman. 
Therefore  she  was  not  aggrieved  when 
she  found  that  she  could  not  have  Mi- 
randa with  her  in  the  woods  for  more 
than  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time.  In  that 
hour  or  two,  however,  much  could  be 
done;  and  Kroof  tried  to  teach  Miranda 


The  Intimates  91 

many  things  which  it  is  held  good  to 
know  among  the  folk  of  the  ancient 
wood.  She  would  sniff  at  the  mould 
and  dig  up  sweet-smelling  roots ;  and 
Miranda,  observing  the  stems  and  leaves 
of  them,  soon  came  to  know  all  the  edi- 
ble roots  of  the  neighbourhood.  Kroof 
showed  her,  also,  the  delicate  dewberry, 
the  hauntingly  delicious  capillaire,  hidden 
under  its  trailing  vines,  the  insipidly 
sweet  Indian  pear,  and  the  harmless  but 
rather  cotton-woolly  partridge-berry  ;  and 
she  taught  her  to  shun  the  tempting  pur- 
ple fruit  of  the  trillium,  as  well  as  the 
deadly  snake-berry.  The  blueberry,  dear 
alike  to  bears  and  men,  did  not  grow  in 
the  heavy-timbered  forest,  but  Miranda 
had  known  that  fruit  well  from  those  ear- 
liest days  in  the  Settlement,  when  she  had 
so  often  stained  her  mouth  with  blueberry 
pie.  As  for  the  scarlet  clusters  of  the 
pigeon-berry,  carpeting  the  hillocks  of 
the  pasture,  Miranda  needed  no  teach- 
ing from  Kroof  to  know  that  these  were 
good.  Then,  there  were  all  sorts  of  for- 
est fungi,  of   many  shapes  and  colours,  — 


92     The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

white,  pink,  delicate  yellow,  shining 
orange  covered  with  warts,  creamy  drab, 
streaky  green,  and  even  strong  crimson. 
Toadstools,  Miranda  called  them  at  first, 
with  indiscriminating  dread  and  aversion. 
But  Kroof  taught  her  better.  Some,  in- 
deed, the  red  ones  and  the  warty  ones  in 
particular,  the  wise  animal  would  dash  to 
pieces  with  her  paw  ;  and  these  Miranda 
understood  to  be  bad.  In  fact,  their  very 
appearance  had  something  ominous  in  it, 
and  to  Miranda's  eye  they  had  poison 
written  all  over  them  in  big  letters.  But 
there  was  one  very  white  and  dainty-look- 
ing, sweet-smelling  fungus  which  she 
would  have  sworn  to  as  virtuous.  As 
soon  as  she  saw  it,  she  thought  of  a 
peculiarly  shy  mushroom  (she  loved 
mushrooms),  and  ran  to  pick  it  up  in 
triumph.  But  Krocf  thrust  her  aside 
with  such  rudeness  that  she  fell  over  a 
stump,  much  offended.  Her  indignation 
died  away,  however,  as  she  saw  Kroof 
tearing  and  stamping  the  pale  mushrooms 
to  minutest  fragments,  w'th  every  mark 
of   'oathing.      From   this    Miranda    gath- 


The   Intimates  93 

ered  that  the  beautiful  toadstool  was  a 
very  monster  of  crime.  It  was,  indeed  ; 
for  it  was  none  other  than  the  deadly 
amanita,  one  small  morsel  of  which 
would  have  hushed  Miranda  into  the 
sleep  which  does  not  wake. 

Though  Miranda  was  safe  under 
Kroof's  tutelage,  it  was  perhaps  just  as 
well  for  her  at  that  period  of  her  youth 
that  she  was  forbidden  to  stray  from  the 
clearing.  For  there  was,  indeed,  one 
tribe  among  the  folk  of  the  wood  against 
whose  anger  Kroof's  protection  would 
have  very  little  availed.  Had  Miranda 
gone  roaming,  she  and  Kroof,  they  might 
have  found  a  bee  tree.  It  is  doubtful  it 
Kroof's  sagacity  would  have  told  her  that 
Miranda's  skin  was  not  adequate  to  an 
enterprise  against  bee  trees.  The  zealous 
bear  would  have  probably  wanted  honey 
for  the  child,  and  the  result  would  have 
been  such  as  to  shake  Kirstie's  confidence 
in  Kroof's  judgment. 

There  were,  however,  several  well-in- 
habited ant-logs  in  that  narrow  circuit 
which  Miranda  was  allowed  to  tread,  and 


94    The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

on  a  certain  afternoon  Kroof  discovered 
one  of  these.  She  was  much  pleased. 
Here  was  a  chance  to  show  Miranda 
something  very  nice  and  very  good  for 
her  health.  Having  attracted  the  child's 
attention,  she  ripped  the  rotten  log  to  its 
heart,  and  began  licking  up  the  swarming 
insects  and  plump  white  larvae  together. 
Here  was  a  treat ;  but  the  incomprehen- 
sible Miranda,  with  a  shuddering  scream, 
ran  away.  Kroof  was  bewildered.  She 
finished  the  ants,  however,  while  she  was 
about  it.  Whereafter  she  was  called  upon 
to  hear  a  long  lecture  from  Miranda,  to 
the  effect  that  ants  were  not  good  to  eat, 
and  that  it  was  very  cruel  to  tear  open 
their  nests  and  steal  their  eggs.  Of 
course,  as  Kroof  did  not  at  all  understand 
what  she  was  driving  at,  there  was  no 
room  for  an  argument ;  which,  considering 
the  points  involved,  is  much  to  be  re- 
gretted. 

Though  Miranda  had  now,  so  to  speak, 
the  freedom  of  the  wood,  she  was  not 
really  intimate  with  any  of  the  furtive  folk, 
saving  only,   of  course,   the    irrepressible 


The   Intimates  95 

squirrels  who  lived  in  the  cabin  roof.  She 
saw  the  wiid  creatures  now  very  close  at 
hand,  and  they  went  about  their  business 
under  her  eye  without  concern.  They 
realized  that  it  was  no  use  trying  with 
her  their  game  of  invisibility.  No  mat- 
ter how  perfect  their  stillness,  no  matter 
how  absolutely  they  made  themselves  one 
with  their  surroundings,  they  felt  her  clear, 
unwavering,  friendly  eyes  look  them 
through  and  through.  This  was  at  first 
a  troubling  mystery  to  them.  Who  was 
this  youngling,  —  for  youth  betrays  itself 
even  to  the  most  primitive  perceptions,  — 
who,  for  all  her  youth,  set  their  traditions 
and  elaborate  devices  so  easily  at  naught  ? 
Their  instincts  told  them,  however,  that 
she  was  no  foe  to  the  weakest  of  them  ; 
and  so  they  let  her  see  them  at  their  affairs 
unabashed,  though  avoiding  her  with  a 
kind  of  careful  awe. 

Kroof,  too,  they  all  avoided,  but  with 
a  difference.  They  knew  that  she  was 
not  averse  to  an  occasional  meal  of  flesh 
meat,  but  that  she  would  not  greatly 
trouble  herself  in  pursuit  of  it.     All  they 


96    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

■  —  \ 

had  to  do,  these  lesser  folk  of  the  wood, 
was  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
sweep  of  her  mighty  paw,  and  they  felt 
at  ease  in  her  neighbourhood.  AH  but 
the  hare  —  he  knew  that  Kroof  considered 
him  and  his  long-eared  children  a  special 
delicacy,  well  worth  the  effort  of  a  bear. 
Miranda  wondered  why  she  could  never 
see  anything  of  the  hare  when  she  was  out 
with  Kroof.  She  did  see  him  sometimes, 
indeed  ;  but  always  at  a  distance,  and  for 
an  instant  only.  On  these  occasions, 
Kroof  did  not  see  him  at  all ;  and  Mi- 
randa soon  came  to  realize  that  she  could 
see  more  clearly  than  even  the  furtive  folk 
themselves.  Thev  could  hide  themselves 
from  each  other  by  stillness  and  by  self- 
effacement;  but  Miranda's  eyes  always 
inexorably  distinguished  the  ruddy  fox 
from  the  yellow-brown,  rotten  log  on 
which  he  flattened  himself.  She  instantly 
differentiated  the  moveless  nuthatch  from 
the  knot  on  the  trunk,  the  squatting  grouse 
from  the  lichened  stone,  the  wood-mouse 
from  the  curled  brown  leaf,  the  crouching 
wild-cat  from  the  mottled  branch.      Con- 


The   Intimates  97 

sequently  the  furtive  folk  gradually  began 
to  pay  her  the  tribute  of  ignoring  her, 
which  meant  that  they  trusted  her  to  let 
them  alone.  They  kept  their  reserve ; 
but  under  her  interested  scrutiny  the  nut- 
hatch would  walk  up  the  rough-barked 
pine  trunk  and  pick  insects  out  from  under 
the  grey  scales  ;  the  golden-winged  wood- 
pecker would  hunt  down  the  fat,  white 
grubs  which  he  delighted  in,  and  hammer 
sharply  on  the  dead  wood  a  few  feet  above 
her  head ;  the  slim,  brown  stoat  would 
chase  beetles  among  the  tree  roots,  un- 
troubled by  her  discreet  proximity ;  the 
beruffed  cock-grouse  would  drum  from 
the  top  of  his  stump  till  the  air  was  full 
of  the  soft  thunder  of  his  vauntings,  and 
his  half-grown  brood  would  dust  them- 
selves in  the  deserted  ant-hill  in  the  sun- 
niest corner  of  the  clearing.  Only  the 
pair  of  crows  which,  seeing  great  oppor- 
tunities about  the  reoccupied  clearing,  had 
taken  up  their  dwelling  in  the  top  of  a 
tall  spruce  close  behind  the  cabin,  held 
suspiciously  aloof  from  Miranda.  They 
often  talked  her  over,  in  harsh  tones  that 


98     The   Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

jarred  the  ancient  stillness  ;  and  they  con- 
sidered her  intimacy  with  Kroof  altogether 
contrary  to  the  order  of  things.  Being 
themselves  exemplars  of  duplicity,  they 
were  quite  convinced  that  Miranda  had 
ulterior  motives,  too  deep  for  them  to 
fathom  ;  and  they  therefore  respected  her 
immensely.  But  they  did  not  trust  her, 
of  course.  The  shy  rain-birds,  however, 
trusted  her,  and  would  whistle  to  each 
other  their  long,  melancholy  calls  foretell- 
ing rain,  even  though  she  were  standing 
within  a  few  steps  of  them,  and  staring  at 
them  with  all  her  might ;  and  this  was 
a  most  unheard-of  favour  on  the  part  of 
the  rain-birds,  who  are  too  reticent  to  let 
themselves  be  heard  when  any  one  is  near 
enough  to  see  them.  There  might  be 
three  or  four  uttering  their  slow,  inex- 
pressibly pathetic  cadences  all  around  the 
clearing ;  but  Kirstie  could  never  catch  a 
glimpse  of  them,  though  many  a  time  she 
listened  with  deep  longing  in  her  heart 
as  their  remote  voices  thrilled  across  the 
dewy  oncoming  of  the  dusk. 

Miranda    saw    the    panther    only   once 


The   Intimates 


99 


again  that  year.  It  was  about  a  month 
after  her  meeting  with  Kroof.  She  was 
alone,  just  upon  the  edge  of  the  buck- 
wheat field,  and  peering  into  the  shadowy, 
transparent  stillness  to  see  what  she  could 
see.  What  she  saw  sent  her  little  heart 
straight  up  into  her  mouth.  There,  not 
a  dozen  paces  from  her,  lying  flat  along 
a  fallen  tree,  was  the  panther.  He  was 
staring  at  her,  with  his  eyes  half  shut. 
Startled  though  she  was,  Miranda's  expe- 
rience with  Kroof  had  made  her  very  self- 
confident.  She  stood  moveless,  staring 
back  into  those  dangerous,  half-shut  eyes. 
After  a  moment  or  two  the  beautiful  beast 
arose  and  stretched  himself  with  great 
deliberation,  reaching  out  and  digging  in 
his  claws,  as  an  ordinary  cat  does  when  it 
stretches.  At  the  same  time  he  yawned 
prodigiously,  so  that  it  seemed  to  Miranda 
he  would  surely  split  to  his  ears,  and  she 
looked  right  into  his  great  pink  throat. 
Then  he  stepped  lightly  down  from  the 
tree,  —  on  the  side  farthest  from  Miranda, 
—  and  walked  away  with  the  air  of  not 
wishing;   to   intrude. 


ioo    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

This  same  summer,  too,  so  momentous 
in  its  events,  Miranda  first  met  Wapiti, 
the  delicate-antlered  buck,  and  Ganner, 
the  big  Canada  lynx.  Needless  to  say, 
they  were  not  in  company.  One  morn- 
ing, as  she  sat  in  a  fence  corner,  absorbed 
in  building  a  little  house  of  twigs  around 
a  sick  butterfly,  she  heard  a  loud  snort 
just  at  her  elbow.  Much  startled,  she 
gave  a  little  cry  as  she  looked  up,  and 
something  jumped  back  from  the  fence. 
She  saw  a  bright  brown  head,  crowned 
with  splendid,  many-pronged  antlers,  and 
a  pair  of  large,  liquid  eyes  looking  at  her 
with  mild  wonder. 

"  Oh,  you  be-autiful  deer,  did  I  frighten 
you  ?  '  she  cried,  knowing  the  visitor  by 
pictures  she  had  seen  ;  and  she  poked  her 
little  hand  through  the  fence  in  greeting. 
The  buck  seemed  very  curious  about  the 
scarlet  ribbon  at  her  neck,  and  eyed  it 
steadily  for  half  a  minute.  Then  he 
came  close  up  to  the  fence  again,  and 
sniffed  her  hand  with  his  fine  -black  nos- 
trils, opening  and  closing  them  sensitively. 
He  let  her  stroke  his  smooth  muzzle,  and 


The  Intimates  IOI 

held  his  head  quite  still  under  the  caress- 
ing of  her  hand.  Then  some  unusual 
sound  caught  his  ear.  It  was  Kirstie 
hoeing  potatoes  near  by ;  and  presently 
the  furrow  she  was  following  brought  her 
into  view  behind  the  corner  of  the  barn. 
The  scarlet  kerchief  on  her  hair  flamed 
hotly  in  the  sun.  The  buck  raised  his 
head  high,  and  stared,  and  finally  seemed 
to  decide  that  the  apparition  was  a  hostile 
one.  With  a  snort,  and  an  impatient 
stamp  of  his  polished  hoof,  he  wheeled 
about  and  trotted  off  into  the  wood. 

Her  introduction  to  Ganner,  the  lynx, 
was  under  less  gracious  auspices. 

Michael,  the  calf,  who  had  been  grow- 
ing excellently  all  summer,  was  kept  teth- 
ered during  the  daytime  to  a  stake  in  a 
corner  of  the  wild-grass  meadow,  about 
fifty  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
A  little  nearer  the  cabin  was  a  long 
thicket  of  blackberry  brakes  and  elder 
bushes  and  wild  clematis,  forming  a  dense 
tangle,  in  which  Miranda  had,  with  great 
pains  and  at  the  cost  of  terrific  scratches, 
formed    herself  a  delectable  hiding-place. 


102    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Here  she  would  play  house,  and  some- 
times take  a  nap,  in  the  hot  mornings, 
while  her  mother  would  be  at  work  acres 
away,  at  the  very  opposite  side  of  the 
clearing. 

One  day,  about  eleven  in  the  morning, 
Michael  was  lying  at  the  limit  of  her 
tether  nearest  the  cabin,  when  she  saw  a 
strange  beast  come  out  of  the  forest  and 
halt  to  look  at  her.  The  animal  was  of  a 
greyish  rusty  brown,  very  pale  on  the 
belly  and  neck,  and  nearly  as  tall  as 
Michael  herself;  but  its  body  was  curi- 
ously short  in  proportion  to  the  length 
of  its  powerful  legs.  It  had  a  perfectly 
round  face,  with  round  glaring  eyes,  long 
stiff  black  tufts  on  the  tips  of  its  sharp- 
pointed  ears,  and  a  fierce-looking,  whitish 
brown  whisker  brushed  away,  as  it  were, 
from  under  its  chin.  Its  tail  was  a  mere 
thick,  brown  stump  of  a  tail,  looking  as  if  it 
had  been  chopped  off  short.  The  creature 
gazed  all  around,  v/arily  ;  then  crouched 
low,  its  hind  quarters  rather  higher  in  the 
air  than  its  fore  shoulders,  and  stepping 
softly,  came  straight  for  Michael. 


The   Intimates  103 


Inexperienced  as  Michael  was,  she 
knew  that  this  was  nothing  less  than 
death  itself  approaching  her.  She  sprang 
up,  her  awkward  legs  spread  wide  apart, 
her  whole  weight  straining  on  the  tether, 
her  eyes;  rolling  white,  fixed  in  horror  on 
the  dreadful  object.  From  her  throat 
came  a  long,  shrill  bleat  of  appeal  and 
despair. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  cry.  It 
brought  Miranda  from  her  playhouse  in 
an  instant.  In  the  next  instant  she  took 
in  the  situation.  "  Mother  !  Mothe-e-er  !  " 
she  screamed  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
and  flew  to  the  defence  of  her  beloved 
Michael. 

The  lynx,  at  this  unexpected  interfer- 
ence, stopped  short.  Miranda  did  not 
look  formidable,  and  he  was  not  alarmed 
by  any  means.  But  she  looked  unusual, 
—  and  that  bit  of  bright  red  at  her  throat 
might  mean  something  which  he  did  not 
understand, — and  there  was  something 
not  quite  natural,  something  to  give  him 
pause,  in  a  youngster  displaying  this  reck- 
less   courage.        For    a    second    or    two, 


104    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

therefore,  he  sat  straight  up  like  a  cat, 
considering  ;  and  his  tufted  ears  the  while, 
very  erect,  with  the  strange  whiskers 
under  his  chin,  gave  him  an  air  that  was 
fiercely  dignified.  His  hesitation,  how- 
ever, was  but  for  a  moment.  Satisfied 
that  Miranda  did  not  count,  he  came  on 
again,  more  swiftly  ;  and  Miranda,  seeing 
that  she  had  failed  to  frighten  him  away, 
just  flung  her  arms  around  Michael's 
neck  and  screamed. 

The  scream  should  have  reached  Kirs- 
tie's  ear  across  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
clearing ;  but  a  flaw  of  wind  carried  it 
away,  and  the  cabin  intervened  to  dull  its 
edge.  Other  ears  than  Kirstie's,  however, 
heard  it ;  heard,  too,  and  understood 
Michael's  bleating.  The  black-and-white 
cow  was  far  away,  in  another  pasture. 
(Kirstie  saw  her  running  frantically  up 
and  down  along  the  fence,  and  thought 
the  flies  were  tormenting  her.)  But  just 
behind  the  thicket  lay  the  two  steers, 
Bright  and  Star,  contemplatively  chew- 
ing their  midday  cud.  Both  had  risen 
heavily    to    their    feet    at    Michael's    first 


The  Intimates  105 

appeal.  As  Miranda's  scream  rang  out, 
Bright's  sorrel  head  appeared  around  the 
corner  of  the  thicket,  anxious  to  investi- 
gate. He  stopped  at  sight  of  Ganner, 
held  his  muzzle  high  in  air,  snorted 
loudly,  and  shook  his  head  with  a  great 
show  of  valour.  Immediately  after  him 
came  Star,  the  black-and-white  brindle. 
But  of  a  different  temper  was  he.  The 
moment  his  eyes  fell  upon  Michael's  foe 
and  Miranda's,  down  went  his  long, 
straight  horns,  up  went  his  brindled  tail, 
and  with  a  bellow  of  rage  he  charged. 

The  gaunt  steer  was  an  antagonist  whom 
Ganner  had  no  stomach  to  face.  With  an 
angry  snarl,  which  showed  Miranda  a  ter- 
rifying set  of  white  teeth  in  a  very  red 
mouth,  he  turned  his  stump  of  a  tail,  laid 
flat  his  tufted  ears,  and  made  for  the  forest 
with  long,  splendid  leaps,  his  exaggerated 
hind  legs  seeming  to  volley  him  forward 
like  a  ball.  In  about  five  seconds  he  was 
out  of  sight  among  the  trees ;  and  Star, 
snorting  and  switching  his  tail,  stood  paw- 
ing the  turf  haughtily  in  front  of  Miranda 
and  Michael. 


io6    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

It  was  Miranda  who  named  the  big 
lynx  "  Ganner  "  that  day  ;  because,  as  she 
told  her  mother  afterward,  that  was  what 
he  said  when  Star  came  and  drove  him 
away. 


Chapter    VIII 
Axe  and  Antler 

THE  next  winter  went  by  in  the  main 
much  like  the  former  one.  But 
more  birds  came  to  be  fed  as  the  season 
advanced,  because  Miranda's  fame  had 
gone  abroad  amongst  them.  The  snow 
was  not  so  deep,  the  cold  not  so  severe. 
No  panther  came  again  to  claw  at  their 
roof  by  night.  But  there  were  certain 
events  which  made  the  season  stand  out 
sharply  from  all  others  in  the  eyes  of  both 
Kirstie  and  Miranda. 

Throughout  December  and  January  Wa- 
piti, the  buck,  with  two  slim  does  accom- 
panying him,  would  come  and  hang  about 
the  barn  for  several  days  at  a  time,  nibbling 
at  the  scattered  straw.  With  the  two 
steers,  Star  and  Bright,  Wapiti  was  not  on 
very  good  terms.  They  would  sometimes 
thrust  at   him  resentfully,  whereupon  he 

10* 


io8    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


would  jump  aside,  as  if  on  springs,  stamp 
twice  sharply  with  his  polished  fore  hoofs, 
and  level  at  them  the  fourteen  threatening 
spear  points  of  his  antlers.  But  the  chal- 
lenge never  came  to  anything.  As  for  the 
black-and-white  cow,  she  seemed  to  admire 
Wapiti  greatly,  though  he  met  her  admi- 
ration with  the  most  lofty  indifference. 
One  day  Miranda  let  him  and  the  two 
does  lick  some  coarse  salt  out  of  a  dish, 
after  which  enchanting  experience  all  three 
would  follow  her  straight  up  to  the  cabin 
door.  They  even  took  to  following  Kirs- 
tie  about,  which  pleased  and  flattered  her 
more  than  she  would  acknowledge  to 
Miranda,  and  earned  them  many  a  cold 
buckwheat  pancake.  To  them  the  cold 
pancakes,  though  leathery  and  tough,  were 
a  tit-bit  of  delight ;  but  along  in  January 
they  tore  themselves  away  from  such 
raptures  and  removed  to  other  feeding 
grounds. 

Toward  spring,  to  Miranda's  great  de- 
light, she  made  acquaintance  with  Ten- 
Tine,  the  splendid  bull  caribou  whom  sne 
had  just  seen  the  winter  before.      He  and 


Axe  and  Antler  109 

his  antlered  cows  were  migrating  south- 
ward by  slow  stages.  They  were  getting 
tired  of  the  dry  moss  and  lichen  of  the 
barrens  which  lay  a  week's  journey  north- 
ward from  the  clearing.  They  began  to 
crave  the  young  shoots  of  willow  and  pop- 
lar that  would  now  be  bursting  with  sap 
along  the  more  southerly  streams.  Look- 
ing from  the  window  one  morning,  before 
the  cattle  had  been  let  out,  Miranda  saw 
Ten-Tine  emerge  from  the  woods  and 
start  with  long,  swinging  strides  across  the 
open.  His  curiously  flattened,  leaf-like 
antlers  lay  back  on  a  level  with  his  shoul- 
ders, and  his  nose  pointed  straight  before 
him.  The  position  was  just  the  one  to 
enable  him  to  go  through  the  woods  with- 
out getting  his  horns  entangled.  From 
the  middle  of  his  forehead  projected,  at 
right  angles  to  the  rest  of  the  antlers,  two 
broad,  flat,  palmated  prongs,  a  curious  en- 
largement of  the  central  ones.  His  cows, 
whose  antlers  were  little  less  splendid  than 
his  own,  but  lacking  in  the  frontal  pro- 
jection, followed  at  his  heels.  In  colour 
he    was     of    a    very    light,    whitish  drab, 


no    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

quite  unlike  the  warm  brown  of  Wapiti's 
coat. 

In  passing  the  barn  Ten-Tine  caught 
sight  of  some  tempting  fodder,  and  stopped 
to  try  it.  Kirstie's  straw  proved  very  much 
to  the  taste  of  the  whole  herd.  While 
they  were  feeding  delightedly,  Miranda 
stole  out  to  make  friends  with  them.  She 
took,  as  a  tribute,  a  few  handfuls  of  the 
hens'  buckwheat,  in  a  bright  yellow  bowl. 
As  she  approached,  Ten-Tine  lifted  his 
fine  head  and  eyed  her  curiously.  Had 
it  been  the  rutting  season,  he  would  no 
doubt  have  straightway  challenged  her 
to  mortal  combat.  But  now,  unless  he 
saw  a  wolf,  a  panther,  or  a  lynx,  he  was 
good-tempered  and  inquisitive.  This 
small  creature  looked  harmless,  and  there 
was  undoubtedly  something  quite  remark- 
able about  her.  What  was  that  shining 
thing  which  she  held  out  in  front  of  her  ? 
And  what  was  that  other  very  bright  thing 
around  her  neck  ?  He  stopped  feeding, 
and  watched  her  intently,  his  head  held 
in  an  attitude  of  indecision,  just  a  little 
lower  than  his  shoulders.     The  cows  took 


Axe  and  Antler  1 1 1 

a  look  also,  and  felt  curious,  but  were 
concerned  rather  to  satisfy  their  hunger 
than  their  curiosity.  They  left  the  matter 
easily  to  Ten-Tine. 

Miranda  had  learned  many  things  al- 
ready from  her  year  among  the  folk  of 
the  wood.  One  of  these  things  was  that 
all  the  furtive  folk  dreaded  and  resented 
rough  movement.  Their  manners  were 
always  beyond  reproach.  The  fiercest  of 
them  moved  ever  with  an  aristocratic  grace 
and  poise.  They  knew  the  difference  be- 
tween swiftness  and  haste.  All  abrupt- 
ness they  abhorred.  In  lines  of  beauty 
they  eluded  their  enemies.  They  killed 
in  curves. 

She  did  not,  therefore,  attempt  to  go 
straight  up  and  take  Ten-Tine's  acquaint- 
ance by  storm.  She  paused  discreetly 
some  dozen  steps  away,  held  out  the  dish 
to  him,  and  murmured  her  inarticulate, 
soft  persuasions.  Not  being  versed  in 
the  caribou  tongue,  she  trusted  the  tones 
of  her  voice  to  reveal  her  good  intention. 

Seeing  that  she  would  come  no  nearer, 
Ten-Tine's  curiosity  refused  to  be  balked. 


112    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

But  he  was  dubious,  very  dubious.  Like 
Wapiti,  he  stamped  when  he  was  in  doubt ; 
but  the  hoofs  he  stamped  with  were  much 
larger,  broader,  clumsier,  less  polished  than 
Wapiti's,  being  formed  for  running  over 
such  soft  surfaces  as  bogland  and  snow 
insufficiently  packed,  where  Wapiti's  trim 
feet  would  cut  through  like  knives. 

Step  by  step  he  drew  nearer.  There 
was  something  in  Miranda's  clear  gaze 
that  gave  him  confidence.  At  length  he 
was  near  enough  to  touch  the  yellow  bowl 
with  his  flexible  upper  lip.  He  saw  that 
the  bowl  contained  something.  He  ex- 
tended his  muzzle  over  the  rim,  and,  to 
Miranda's  surprise,  blew  into  it.  The 
grain  flew  in  every  direction,  some  of  it 
sticking  to  his  own  moist  lips.  He  drew 
back,  a  little  startled.  Then  he  licked  his 
lips  ;  and  he  liked  the  taste.  Back  went 
his  muzzle  into  the  interesting  bowl ;  and, 
after  sniffing  again  very  gently,  he  licked 
up  the  whole  contents. 

"  Oh,  greedy  ! '  exclaimed  Miranda,  in 
tender  rebuke,  and  started  back  to  the 
cabin  to  get  him  some  more. 


Axe  and  Antler  113 

"Wouldn't  Saunders  be  cross,"  she 
thought  to  herself,  "  if  he  knew  I  was 
giving  his  buckwheat  to  the  nice  deer  ? " 

Ten-Tine  followed  close  behind  her, 
sniffing  inquisitively  at  the  red  ribbon  on 
her  neck.  When  Miranda  went  in  for  the 
buckwheat,  he  tried  to  enter  with  her,  but 
his  antlers  had  too  much  spread  for  the 
doorway.  Kirstie,  who  was  busy  sweep- 
ing, looked  up  in  amazement  as  the  great 
head  darkened  her  door. 

"  Drat  the  child  !  "  she  exclaimed  ; 
"  she'll  be  bringing  all  the  beasts  of  the 
wood  in  to  live  with  us  before  long." 

She  did  not  grudge  Ten-Tine  the  few 
handfuls  of  buckwheat,  however,  though 
he  blew  half  of  it  over  the  floor  so  that  she 
had  to  sweep  it  up.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, and  perceived  that  no  more  was 
forthcoming,  he  backed  ofT  reluctantly 
from  the  door  and  began  smelling  around 
the  window-sill,  pushing  his  curious  nose 
tentatively  against  the  glass. 

Now  it  chanced  that  all  the  way  down 
from  the  barrens  Ten-Tine  and  his  little 
herd  had  been  hungrily  pursued,  although 


114    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


they  did  not  know  it.  Four  of  the  great 
grey  timber  wolves  were  on  their  track. 
Savage  but  prudent,  the  wolves  were  un- 
willing to  attack  the  herd,  for  they  knew 
the  caribou's  fighting  prowess.  But  they 
awaited  a  chance  to  cut  off  one  of  the 
cows  and  hunt  her  down  alone.  For  days 
they  had  kept  the  trail,  faring  very  scantly 
by  the  way ;  and  now  they  were  both 
ravenous  and  enraged.  Emerging  from 
the  woods,  they  saw  the  five  cows  at  feed 
by  the  barn,  with  Ten-Tine  nowhere  in 
sight.  The  opportunity  was  too  rare  a 
one  to  miss.  They  seized  it.  All  four 
gaunt  forms  abreast,  they  came  gallop- 
ing across  the  snow  in  silence,  their  long, 
grey  snouts  wrinkled,  their  white  fangs 
uncovered,  their  grey-and-white  shoulders 
rising  and  falling  in  unison,  their  cloudy 
tails  floating  straight  out  behind  them. 

Just  in  time  the  cows  saw  them  coming. 
There  was  a  half  second  of  motionless  con- 
sternation. Then  nimbly  they  sprang  into 
a  circle,  hind  quarters  bunched  together, 
levelled  antlers  all  pointing  outward.  It 
was  the  accurate  inherited  discipline  of 
generations. 


Axe  and  Antler  115 

Without  a  sound,  save  a  deep,  gasping 
breath,  the  wolves  made  their  leap,  striv- 
ing to  clear  that  bayonet  hedge  of  horns. 
Two  were  hurled  back,  yelping.  One 
brought  a  cow  to  her  knees,  half  clear  of 
the  circle,  his  fangs  in  her  neck,  and  would 
have  finished  her  but  that  her  next  neigh- 
bour prodded  him  so  fiercely  in  the  flank 
that  he  let  go  with  a  shrill  snarl.  But  the 
fourth  wolf  found  the  weak  point  in  the 
circle.  The  foolish  young  cow  upon  whom 
he  sprang  went  wild  at  once  with  fright. 
She  broke  from  the  ring  and  fled.  The 
next  instant  the  wolf  was  at  her  throat. 

The  moment  he  pulled  her  down  the 
other  wolves  sprang  upon  her.  The  rest 
of  the  cows,  maintaining  their  position  ot 
defence,  viewed  her  plight  with  consider- 
able unconcern,  doubtless  holding  that  her 
folly  was  well  served,  and  that  she  was 
worth  no  better  end.  But  Ten-Tine, 
who  had  suddenly  taken  in  the  situation, 
had  other  views  about  it.  To  him  the 
foolish  young  cow  was  most  important. 
With  a  shrill  note  of  rage,  half  bleat,  half 
bellow,  he    charged  down    to  the  rescue 


Ii6    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

The  first  wolf  he  struck,  was  hurled  against 
the  corner  of  the  barn,  and  came  limping 
back  to  the  fray  with  no  great  enthusiasm. 
Upon  the  next  he  came  down  with  both 
front  feet,  fairly  breaking  the  creature's  back. 
Instantly  the  other  two  fastened  upon  his 
flanks,  trying  to  pull  him  down  ;  while  he, 
bounding  and  rearing,  strove  heroically  to 
shake  them  off  in  order  to  reach  them 
with  horns  and  hoofs.  The  bleeding  cow, 
meanwhile,  struggled  to  her  feet  and  took 
refuge  within  the  dauntless  circle,  which 
rather  grudgingly  opened  to  admit  her. 
For  this  they  must  not  be  judged  too 
harshly ;  for  in  caribou  eyes  she  had  com- 
mitted the  crime  of  crimes  in  breaking 
ranks  and  exposing  the  whole  herd  to 
destruction. 

At  this  stage  in  the  encounter  the  val- 
iant Ten-Tine  found  himself  in  desperate 
straits  ;  but  help  came  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  The  factor  which  the  wolves  had 
not  allowed  for  was  Kirstie  Craig.  At 
the  first  sight  of  them  Kirstie  had  been 
filled  with  silent  rage.  She  had  believed 
that  wolves  were  quite  extinct  throughout 


Axe  and  Antler  1 17 

all  the  neighbouring  forests  ;  and  now  in 
their  return  she  saw  a  perpetual  menace. 
But  at  least  they  were  scarce,  she  knew 
that ;  and  on  the  instant  she  resolved 
that  this  little  pack  should  meet  no  milder 
fate  than  extermination. 

"  It's  wolves  !  Don't  you  stir  outside 
this  door  ! "  she  commanded  grimly,  in 
that  voice  which  Miranda  never  dreamed 
of  disobeying.  Miranda,  trembling  with 
excitement,  her  eyes  wide  and  her  cheeks 
white,  climbed  to  the  window,  and  flat- 
tened her  face  against  it.  Kirstie  rushed 
out,  slamming  the  door. 

As  she  passed  the  chopping-block, 
Kirstie  snatched  up  her  axe.  Her  fine 
face  was  set  like  iron.  The  black  eyes 
blazed  fury.  It  was  a  desperate  venture, 
to  attack  three  maddened  wolves,  with  no 
ally  to  support  her  save  a  caribou  bull ; 
but  Kirstie,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  a 
woman  for  half  measures. 

The  first  sweep  of  that  poised  and 
practised  axe  caught  the  nearest  wolf  just 
behind  the  fore  quarters,  and  almost  shore 
him   in   two.      Thus  suddenly   freed  on 


n8    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


one  side,  Ten-Tine  wheeled  like  lightning 
to  catch  his  other  assailant,  but  the  animal 
sprang  back.  In  evading  Ten-Tine's 
horns,  he  almost  fell  over  Kirstie,  who, 
thus  balked  of  her  full  deadly  swing,  just 
managed  to  fetch  him  a  short  stroke  under 
the  jaw  with  the  flat  of  the  blade.  It 
was  enough,  however,  to  fell  him  for  an 
instant,  and  that  instant  was  enough  for 
Ten-Tine.  Bounding  into  the  air,  the 
big  caribou  came  down  with  both  sharp 
fore  hoofs,  like  chisels,  squarely  on  the 
middle  of  his  adversary's  ribs.  The 
stroke  was  slaughterously  decisive.  Ribs 
of  steel  could  not  have  endured  it,  and  in 
a  very  few  seconds  the  shape  of  bloody 
grey  fur  upon  the  snow  bore  scant  re- 
semblance to  a  wolf. 

The  last  of  the  pack,  who  had  been 
lamed  by  Ten-Tine's  onslaught,  had  pru- 
dently drawn  off  when  he  saw  Kirstie 
coming.  Now  he  turned  tail.  Kirstie, 
determined  that  not  one  should  escape, 
gave  chase.  She  could  run  as  can  few 
women.  She  was  bent  on  her  grim  pur- 
pose of  extermination.     At  first  the  wolf's 


Axe  and  Antler  119 

lameness  hindered  him;  but  just  as  he 
was  about  to  turn  at  bay  and  fight  dumbly 
to  the  death,  after  the  manner  of  his  kind, 
the  effort  which  he  had  been  making 
loosened  the  strained  muscles,  and  he 
found  his  pace.  Stretching  himself  out 
on  his  long  gallop,  he  shot  away  from 
his  pursuer  as  if  she  had  been  standing 
still. 

Kirstie  stopped,  swung  her  axe,  and 
hurled  it  after  him  with  all  her  strength. 
It  struck  the  mark.  Had  it  struck  true, 
edge  on,  it  would  have  fulfilled  her  utmost 
intention  ;  but  it  struck,  with  the  thick 
of  the  head,  squarely  upon  the  brute's 
rump.  The  blow  sent  him  rolling  end 
over  end  across  the  snow.  He  yelped 
with  astonishment  and  terror  ;  but  recover- 
ing himself  again  in  a  second,  he  went 
bounding  like  a  grey  ball  of  fur  over  a 
brush  heap,  and  vanished  down  the  forest 
arches. 

When  Kirstie  turned  round  she  saw 
Miranda,  white,  pitiful,  and  bewildered, 
in  the  doorway ;  while  Ten-Tine  and  his 
cows,  without  waiting  to  thank  her,  were 


120    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

trotting  away  across  the  white  fields,  their 
muzzles  thrust  far  forward,  their  antlers 
laid  along  their  backs.  From  Ten-Tine 
himself,  and  from  the  wounded  young 
cow,  the  blood  dripped  scarlet  and  steam- 
ing at  every  stride. 


Chapter   IX 
The  Pax    Mirandae 

AFTER  this  experience,  Kirstie  would 
h?ve  been  more  anxious  than  be- 
fore about  Miranda,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  child's  remarkable  friendship  with  the 
great  she-bear.  As  soon  as  the  snow  was 
gone,  and  the  ancient  wood  again  began 
to  lure  Miranda  with  its  mystic  stillness 
and  transparent  twilight,  Kroof  reappeared, 
as  devoted  as  ever.  When  Kroof  was 
absent,  the  woods  were  to  the  child  a 
forbidden  realm,  into  which  she  could 
only  peer  with  longing  and  watch  the 
furtive  folk  with  those  initiated  eyes  of 
hers. 

A  little  later  when  the  mosses  were 
dry,  and  when  the  ground  was  well  heart- 
ened with  the  fecundating  heats  of  June, 
Miranda  had  further  proof  of  her  peculiar 
powers     of    vision.      One    day    she    and 


121 


122    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


Kroof  came  upon  a  partridge  hen  with 
her  new-hatched  brood,  at  the  edge  of  a 
thicket  of  young  birches.  The  hen  went 
flopping  and  fluttering  off  among  the 
trees,  as  if  sorely  wounded ;  and  Kroof, 
convinced  of  a  speedy  capture,  followed 
eagerly.  She  gave  a  glance  about  her 
first,  however,  to  see  if  there  were  any 
partridge  chicks  in  the  neighbourhood. 
To  Miranda's  astonishment,  the  wise 
animal  saw  none.  But  Miranda  saw 
them  distinctly.  There  they  were  all 
about  her,  moveless  little  brown  balls, 
exactly  like  the  leaves  and  the  moss  and 
the  scattered  things  of  the  forest  floor. 
Some  were  half  hidden  under  a  leaf  or 
twig ;  some  squatted  in  the  open,  just  in 
the  positions  in  which  the  alarm  had 
found  them.  They  shut  their  eyes  even, 
to  make  themselves  more  at  one  with 
their  surroundings.  They  would  have 
endured  any  fate,  they  would  have  died 
on  the  spot,  rather  than  move,  so  per- 
fect was  their  baby  obedience  to  the  part- 
ridge law.  This  obedience  had  its  reward. 
It  gave  them  invisibility  to  all  the  folk  of 


The  Pax   Mirandae  123 

the  wood,  friends  and  foes  alike.  But  there 
was  no  such  thing  as  deceiving  Miranda's 
eyes.  She  was  not  concerned  about  the 
mother  partridge,  because  she  saw  through 
her  pretty  trick  and  knew  that  Kroof  could 
never  catch  her.  Indeed,  in  her  inno- 
cence she  did  not  think  good  Kroof  would 
hurt  her  if  she  did  catch  her.  But  these 
moveless  chicks,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
interesting.  One  —  two  —  three  —  Mi- 
randa counted  ten  of  them,  and  there  were 
more  about  somewhere,  she  imagined. 
Presently  the  mother  bird  came  flopping 
around  in  a  circle,  to  see  how  things  were 
going.  She  saw  Miranda  stoop  and  pick 
up  one  of  the  precious  brown  balls,  and 
then  another,  curiously  but  gently.  In 
her  astonishment  the  distracted  bird  for- 
got Kroof  for  a  second,  and  was  almost 
caught.  Escaping  this  peril  by  a  sudden 
wild  dash,  and  realizing  that  from  Mi- 
randa there  was  no  concealment,  she  flew 
straight  into  the  densest  part  of  the 
thicket  and  gave  a  peremptory  call.  At 
the  sound  each  little  motionless  ball  came 
to   life.     The   two  that  were  lying  as  if 


124    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

■»■■■-'         ■-  ■  ■  -■■■■'■——-■  ■  .  « 

dead  on  Miranda's  outstretched  palms 
hopped  to  the  ground ;  and  all  darted 
into  the  thicket.  A  few  low  but  sharply 
articulated  clucks,  and  the  mother  bird 
led  her  brood  off  swiftly  through  the 
bush  ;  while  Kroof,  somewhat  crestfallen, 
came  shambling  back  to  Miranda. 

All  this  time,  in  spite  of  the  affair  of 
the  wolves,  the  attack  of  Ganner,  the  lynx, 
on  Michael,  and  that  tell-tale  spot  of 
blood  and  fur  on  the  snow,  where  the 
owl  had  torn  the  hare  for  his  midnight 
feast,  Miranda  had  regarded  the  folk  of 
the  ancient  wood  as  a  gentle  people, 
living  for  the  most  part  in  a  voiceless 
amity.  Her  seeing  eyes  quite  failed  to 
see  the  unceasing  tragedy  of  the  stillness. 
She  did  not  guess  that  the  furtive  folk, 
whom  she  watched  about  their  business, 
went  always  with  fear  at  their  side  and 
death  lying  in  wait  at  every  turn.  She 
little  dreamed  that,  for  most  of  them,  the 
very  price  of  life  itself  was  the  ceaseless 
extinguishing  of  life. 

It  was  during  the  summer  that  Miranda 
found  her  first  and  only  flaw  in   Kroof's 


The   Pax   Mirandae  125 

perfections ;  for  Kroof  she  regarded  as 
second  only  to  her  mother  among  created 
beings.  But  on  one  memorable  day, 
when  she  ran  across  the  fields  to  meet 
Kroof  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  the  great 
bear  was  too  much  occupied  to  come  for- 
ward as  usual.  She  was  sniffing  at  some- 
thing on  the  ground  which  she  held 
securely  under  one  of  her  huge  paws. 
Miranda  ran  forward  to  see  what  it  was. 

To  her  horror  it  was  the  warm  and 
bleeding  body  of  a  hare. 

She  shrank  back,  sickened  at  the  sight. 
Then,  in  flaming  indignation  she  struck 
Kroof  again  and  again  in  the  face  with  the 
palms  of  her  little  hands.  Kroof  was 
astonished,  —  temperately  astonished,  — 
for  she  always  knew  Miranda  was  peculiar. 
She  lifted  her  snout  high  in  the  air  to 
escape  the  blows,  shut  her  eyes,  and 
meekly  withdrew  the  offending  paw. 

"  Oh,  Kroof,  how  could  you  !  I  hate 
you,  bad  Kroof!  You  are  just  like  the 
wolves  !  "  cried  Miranda,  her  little  bosom 
bursting  with  wrath  and  tears.  Kroof 
understood  that  she  was  in  grievous   dis- 


126    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

grace.  Carrying  the  dead  hare  with  her, 
Miranda  ran  out  into  the  potato  patch, 
fetched  the  hoe,  returned  to  the  spot 
where  the  bear  still  sat  in  penitential  con- 
templation, and  proceeded  in  condemna- 
tory silence  to  dig  a  hole  right  under 
Kroof's  nose.  Here  she  buried  the  hare, 
tenderly  smoothing  the  ground  above  it. 
Then  throwing  the  hoe  down  violently, 
she  flung  her  arms  about  Kroof's  neck, 
and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"  How  could  you  do  it,  Kroof  ?  "  she 
sobbed.  "  Oh,  perhaps  you'll  be  wanting 
to  eat  up  Miranda  some  day  !  " 

Kroof  suffered  herself  to  be  led  away 
from  the  unhappy  spot.  Soon  Miranda 
grew  calm,  and  the  painful  scene  seemed 
forgotten.  The  rest  of  the  afternoon  was 
spent  very  pleasantly  in  eating  wild  rasp- 
berries along  the  farther  side  of  the  clear- 
ing. To  Kroof's  mind  it  gradually  became 
clear  that  her  offence  lay  in  killing  the 
hare  ;  and  as  it  was  obvious  that  Miranda 
liked  hares,  she  resolved  never  to  offend 
again  in  this  respect,  at  least  while  Mi- 
randa was  anywhere  in  the  neighbourhood 


The  Pax   Mirandae  i  27 

After  Miranda  had  gone  home,  however, 
the  philosophical  Kroof  strolled  back  dis- 
creetly to  where  the  hare  was  buried.  She 
dug  it  up,  and  ate  it  with  great  satisfac- 
tion, and  afterward  she  smoothed  down  the 
earth  again,  that  Miranda  might  not  know. 
After  this  trying  episode  Miranda  had 
every  reason  to  believe  that  Kroof 's  refor- 
mation was  complete.  Little  by  little, 
as  month  followed  month,  and  season  fol- 
lowed season,  and  year  rolled  into  year 
at  the  quiet  cabin  in  the  clearing,  Mi- 
randa forgot  the  few  scenes  of  blood  which 
had  been  thrust  upon  her.  The  years 
now  little  varied  one  from  another ;  yet 
to  Miranda  the  life  was  not  monotonous. 
Each  season  was  for  her  full  of  events, 
full  of  tranquil  uneventfulness  for  Kirstie. 
The  cabin  became  more  homelike  as  cur- 
rant and  lilac  bushes  grew  up  around  it, 
a  green,  sweet  covert  for  birds,  and  abun- 
dant scarlet-blossomed  bean-vines  mantled 
the  barrenness  of  its  weathered  logs.  The 
clearing  prospered.  The  stock  increased. 
Old  Dave  hardly  ever  visited  at  the  clear- 
ing but  he  went  back  laden  with  stuff  to 


128    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

sell  for  Kirstie  at  the  Settlement.  Among 
the  folk  of  the  forest  Miranda's  ascendency 
kept  on  growing,  little  by  little,  till,  though 
none  of  the  beasts  came  to  know  her  as 
Kroof  did,  they  all  had  a  tendency  to  fol- 
low her  at  respectful  distance,  without 
seeming  to  do  so.  They  never  killed  in 
her  presence,  so  that  a  perpetual  truce,  as 
it  were,  came  at  last  to  rule  within  eyeshot 
of  her  inescapable  gaze.  Sometimes  the 
advent  of  spring  would  bring  Kroof  to  the 
clearing  not  alone,  but  with  a  furry  and 
jolly  black  morsel  of  a  cub  at  her  side. 
The  cub  never  detracted  in  the  least  from 
the  devotion  which  she  paid  to  Miranda. 
It  always  grew  up  to  young  bearhood  in 
more  or  less  amiable  tolerance  of  its 
mother's  incomprehensible  friend,  only 
to  drift  away  at  last  to  other  feeding 
grounds  ;  for  Kroof  was  absolute  in  her 
own  domain,  and  suffered  not  even  her 
own  offspring  to  trespass  thereon,  when 
once  they  had  reached  maturity.  Cubs 
might  come,  and  cubs  might  go;  but  the 
love  of  Kroof  and  Miranda  was  a  thing 
that  rested  unchanging. 


The   Pax    Mirandas  129 

In  the  winters,  Miranda  now  did  most 
of  the  knitting,  while  Kirstie  wove,  on  a 
great  clacking  loom,  the  flax  which  her 
little  farm  produced  abundantly.  They 
had  decided  not  to  keep  sheep  at  the 
clearing,  lest  their  presence  should  lure 
back  the  wolves.  One  warm  day  toward 
spring,  when  Old  Dave,  laden  with  an 
ample  pack  of  mittens,  stockings,  and 
socks  which  Miranda's  active  fingers  had 
fashioned,  was  slowly  trudging  along  the 
trail  on  his  way  back  to  the  Settlement, 
he  became  aware  that  a  pair  of  foxes  fol- 
lowed him.  They  came  not  very  near, 
nor  did  they  pay  him  any  marked  atten- 
tion. They  merely  seemed  to  "  favour 
his  company,"  as  he  himself  put  it.  He 
was  thus  curiously  escorted  for  perhaps  a 
mile  or  two,  to  his  great  bewilderment ; 
for  he  knew  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
so  chosen  out  for  honour  in  the  wood. 
At  another  time,  when  similarly  burdened, 
Wapiti,  the  buck,  came  up  and  sniffed  at 
him,  very  amicably.  During  the  next 
winter,  when  he  was  carrying  the  same 
magic    merchandise,    several     hares    went 

K 


130    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Jeaping  beside  him,  not  very  near,  but  as 
if  seeking  the  safety  of  his  presence.  The 
mystery  of  all  this  weighed  upon  him. 
He  was  at  first  half  inclined  to  think  that 
he  was  "  ha'nted  "  ;  but  fortunately  he  took 
thought  to  examine  the  tracks,  and  so 
assured  himself  that  his  inexplicable  com- 
panions were  of  real  flesh  and  blood. 
Nevertheless,  he  found  himself  growing 
shy  of  his  periodical  journeyings  through 
the  wood,  and  at  last  he  opened  his  mind 
to  Kirstie  on  the  subject. 

Kirstie  was  amused  in  her  grave  way. 

"  Why,  Dave,"  she  explained,  "  didn't 
you  know  Miranda  was  that  thick  with 
the  wild  things  she's  half  wild  herself? 
Weren't  you  carrying  a  lot  of  Miranda's 
knit  stuff  when  the  creatures  followed 
you  r 

"  That's  so,  Kirstie  !  "  was  the  old  lum- 
berman's reply.  "  I  recollec'  as  how  the 
big  buck  kep'  a-sniffin'  at  my  pack  of 
socks  an'   mits,  too  !  " 

"They  were  some  of  Miranda's  friends; 
and  when  they  smelled  of  those  mits  they 
thought    she    was    somewhere   around,    or 


The   Pax   Mirandae  131 

else  they  knew  you  must  be  a  friend  of 
hers." 

Thenceforward  Old  Dave  always  looked 
for  something  of  a  procession  in  his 
honour  whenever  he  carried  Miranda's 
knittings  to  the  Settlement ;  and  he  was 
intensely  proud  of  the  distinction.  He 
talked  about  it  among  his  gossips,  of 
course;  and  therefore  a  lot  of  strange 
stories  began  to  circulate.  It  was  said  by 
some  that  Kirstie  and  Miranda  held  con- 
verse with  the  beasts  in  plain  English  such 
as  common  mortals  use,  and  knew  all  the 
secrets  of  the  woods,  and  much  besides 
that  "  humans '  have  no  call  to  know. 
By  others,  more  superstitious  and  fanat- 
ical, it  was  whispered  that  no  mere  an- 
imals formed  the  circle  of  Kirstie's  asso- 
ciates, but  that  spirits,  in  the  guise  of 
hares,  foxes,  cats,  panthers,  bears,  were 
her  familiars  at  the  solitary  cabin.  Such 
malicious  tales  cost  Old  Dave  many  a  bit- 
ter hour,  as  well  as  more  than  one  sharp 
combat,  till  the  gossips  learned  to  keep  a 
bridle  on  their  tongues  when  he  was  by. 
As  for  Young  Dave,  he  had  let  the  clear- 


132    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

ing  and  all  its  affairs  drop  from  his  mind, 
and,  betaking  himself  to  a  wild  region  to 
the  north  of  the  Quah-Davic,  was  fast 
making  his  name  as  a  hunter  and  trapper. 
He  came  but  seldom  to  the  Settlement, 
and  when  he  came  he  had  small  ear  for 
the  Settlement  scandals.  His  mind  was 
growing  large,  and  quiet,  and  tolerant, 
among  the  great  solitudes. 


Chapter  X 
The  Routing  of  the  Philistines 

IN  the  seventh  year  of  Kirstie's  exile, 
something  occurred  which  gave  the 
Settlement  gossip  a  fresh  impulse,  and 
added  a  colour  of  awe  to  the  mystery 
which  surrounded  the  clearing. 

The  winter  changed  to  a  very  open  one, 
so  that  long  before  spring  Kroof  awoke 
in  her  lair  under  the  pine  root.  There 
was  not  enough  snow  to  keep  her  warm 
and  asleep.  But  the  ground  was  frozen, 
food  was  scarce,  and  she  soon  became 
hungry.  Miranda  observed  her  growing 
leanness,  and  tried  the  experiment  of 
bringing  her  a  mess  of  boiled  beans  from 
the  cabin  pot.  To  the  hungry  bear  the 
beans  were  a  revelation.  She  realized  that 
Miranda's  mother  was  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  the  experience,  and  her  long 
reserve  melted  away  in  the  warmth  of  her 

133 


134    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

responsive  palate.  The  next  day,  about 
noon,  as  Kirstie  and  Miranda  were  sitting 
down  to  their  meal,  Kroof  appeared  at 
the  cabin  door  and  sniffed  longingly  at 
the  threshold. 

"What's  that  sniffing  at  the  door?" 
wondered  Kirstie,  with  some  uneasiness 
in  her  grave  voice.  But  Miranda  had 
flown  at  once  to  the  window  to  look  out. 

"  Why,  mother,  it's  Kroof!  '  she  cried, 
clapping  her  hands  with  delight,  and  be- 
fore her  mother  could  say  a  word,  she  had 
thrown  the  door  wide  open.  In  sham- 
bled the  bear  forthwith,  blinking  her 
shrewd  little  eyes.  She  seated  herself  on 
her  haunches,  near  the  table,  and  gazed 
with  intent  curiosity  at  the  fire.  At  this 
moment  a  dry  stick  snapped  and  crackled 
sharply,  whereupon  she  backed  off  to  a 
safer  distance,  but  still  kept  her  eyes  upon 
the  strange  phenomenon. 

Both  Kirstie  and  Miranda  had  been 
watching  her  with  breathless  interest,  to 
see  how  she  would  comport  herself,  but 
now  Miranda  broke  silence. 

"  Oh !    you   dear    old    Kroof,  we're    so 


The   Routing  of  the   Philistines     135 

glad  you've  come  at  last  to  see  us  !  "  she 
cried,  rushing  over  and  flinging  both 
arms  around  the  animal's  neck.  Kirstie's 
face  looked  a  doubtful  indorsement  of 
the  welcome.  Kroof  paid  no  attention 
to  Miranda's  caresses  beyond  a  hasty  lick 
at  her  ear,  and  continued  to  study  the 
fascinating  flames.  This  quietness  of 
demeanour  reassured  Kirstie,  whose  hos- 
pitality thereupon  asserted  itself. 

"  Give  the  poor  thing  some  buckwheat 
cakes,  Miranda,"  she  said.  "  I'm  sure 
she's   come   because  she's   hungry." 

Miranda  preferred  to  think  the  visit 
was  due  to  no  such  interested  motives; 
but  she  at  once  took  up  a  plate  of  cakes 
which  she  had  drenched  in  molasses  for 
the  requirements  of  her  own  taste.  She 
set  the  plate  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
nearest  to  her  visitor,  and  gently  pulled 
the  bear's  snout  down  toward  it.  No 
second  invitation  was  needed.  The  fire 
was  forgotten.  The  enchanting  smell  of 
buckwheat  cakes  and  molasses  was  a  new 
one  to  Kroof 's  nostrils,  but  the  taste  for 
it  was  there,  full  grown  and  waiting.     Out 


136    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

went  her  narrow  red  tongue.  The  cakes 
disappeared  rather  more  rapidly  than  was 
consistent  with  good  manners  :  the  mo- 
lasses was  deftly  licked  up,  and  with  a 
grin  of  rapture  she  looked  about  for 
more.  Just  in  front  of  Kirstie  stood  a 
heaping  dish  of  the  dainties  hot  from  the 
griddle.  With  an  eager  but  tentative 
paw  Kroof  reached  out  for  them.  This 
was  certainly  not  manners.  Kirstie  re- 
moved the  dish  beyond  her  reach,  while 
Miranda  firmly  pushed  the  trespassing 
paw  from   the  table. 

"  No,  Kroof,  you  shan't  have  any  more 
at  all,  unless  you  are  good  !  "  she  admon- 
ished, with  hortatory  finger  uplifted. 

There  are  few  animals  so  quick  to  take 
a  hint  as  the  bear,  and  Kroof's  wits  had 
grown  peculiarly  alert  during  her  long  inti- 
macy with  Miranda.  She  submitted  with 
instant  meekness,  and  waited,  with  tongue 
hanging  out,  while  Miranda  prepared  her 
a  huge  bowl  of  bread  and  molasses.  When 
she  had  eaten  this,  she  investigated  every- 
thing about  the  cabin,  and  finally  went  to 
sleep  on  a  mat  in  the  corner  of  the  inner 


The   Routing  of  the   Philistines     137 

room.  Before  sundown  she  got  up  and 
wandered  off  to  her  lair,  being  stiil  drowsy 
with  winter  sleep. 

After  this  the  old  bear  came  daily  at 
noon  to  the  cabin,  dined  with  Kirstie  and 
Miranda.,  and  dozed  away  the  afternoon 
on  her  mat  in  the  chosen  corner.  Kirstie 
came  to  regard  her  as  a  member  of  the 
household.  To  the  cattle  and  the  poultry 
she  paid  no  attention  whatever.  In  a  few 
days  the  oxen  ceased  to  lower  their  horns 
as  she  passed ;  and  the  cock,  Saunders's 
equally  haughty  successor,  refrained  from 
the  shrill  expletives  of  warning  with  which 
he  had  been  wont  to  herald  her  approach. 

One  afternoon,  before  spring  had  fairly 
set  in,  there  came  two  unwelcome  visitors 
to  the  cabin.  In  a  lumber-camp  some 
fifteen  miles  away,  on  a  branch  of  the 
Quah-Davic,  there  had  been  trouble.  Two 
of  the  "  hands/'  surly  and  mutinous  all 
winter,  had  at  last,  by  some  special  bru- 
tality, enr?ged  the  "boss"  and  their  mates 
beyond  all  pardon.  Hooted  and  beaten 
from  the  camp,  they  had  started  through 
the   woods   by  the  shortest   road   to   the 


138    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Settlement.  Their  hearts  were  black  with 
pent-up  fury.  About  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  they  happened  upon  the  clearing, 
and  demanded  something  to  eat. 

Though  sullen,  and  with  a  kind  of  men- 
ace in  their  air,  their  words  were  civil 
enough  at  first,  and  Kirstie  busied  herself 
to  supply  what  seemed  to  her  their  just 
demands.  The  laws  of  hospitality  are 
very  binding  in  the  backwoods.  Miranda, 
meanwhile,  not  liking  the  looks  of  the 
strangers,  kept  silently  aloof  and  scruti- 
nized them. 

When  Kirstie  had  set  before  them  a 
good  meal,  —  hot  tea,  and  hot  boiled 
beans,  and  eggs,  and  white  bread  and 
butter,  —  they  were  disappointed  because 
she  gave  them  no  pork,  and  they  were 
not  slow  to  demand  it. 

"I've  got  none,"  said  Kirstie;  "we 
don't  eat  pork  here.  You  ought  to  get 
along  well  enough  on  what's  good  enough 
for  Miranda  and  me." 

For  a  backwoods  house  to  be  without 
pork,  the  indispensable,  the  universal,  the 
lumberman's  staff  of  life,  was  something 


The  Routing  of  the   Philistines     139 

unheard  of.  They  both  thought  she  was 
keeping  back  the  pork  out  of  meanness. 

"  You  lie ! "  exclaimed  one,  a  lean,  short, 
swarthy  ruffian.  The  other  got  up  and 
took  a  step  toward  the  woman,  where  she 
stood,  dauntlessly  eying  them.  His 
scrubby  red  beard  bristled,  his  massive 
shoulders  hunched  themselves  ominously 
toward  his  big  ears. 

"  You  git  that  pork,  and  be  quick 
about  it !  "  he  commanded,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  such  phrases  of  emphasis  as  the 
lumberman  uses,  but  does  not  use  in  the 
presence  of  women. 

"Beast!"  exclaimed  Kirstie,  eyes  and 
cheeks  flaming.  "Get  out  of  this  house." 
And  she  glanced  about  for  a  weapon.  But 
in  a  second  the  ruffian  had  seized  her. 
Though  stronger  than  most  men,  she  was 
no  match  for  him  —  a  noted  bully  and  a 
cunning  master  of  the  tricks  of  the  ring. 
She  was  thrown  in  a  second.  Miranda, 
with  a  scream  of  rage,  snatched  up  a  table 
knife  and  darted  to  her  mother's  aid ;  but 
the  shorter  ruffian,  now  delighted  with  the 
game,  shouted :  "  Settle  the   old  woman. 


140    Tne  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Bill.  I'll  see  to  the  gal !  "  and  made  a 
grab  for  Miranda. 

It  had  all  happened  so  suddenly  that 
Kirstie  was,  for  a  moment,  stunned.  Then, 
realizing  the  full  horror  of  the  situation,  a 
strength  as  of  madness  came  upon  her. 
She  set  her  teeth  into  the  wrist  of  her 
assailant  with  such  fury  that  he  yelled 
and  for  a  second  loosed  his  hold.  In  that 
second,  tearing  herself  half  free,  she  clutched 
his  throat  with  her  long  and  powerful  fin- 
gers. It  was  only  an  instant's  respite,  but 
it  was  enough  to  divert  the  other  scoun- 
drel's attention  from  Miranda.  With  a 
huge  laugh  he  turned  to  free  his  mate 
from  that  throttling  grip. 

His  purpose  was  never  fulfilled.  Kroof, 
just  at  this  instant,  thrust  her  nose  from 
the  door  of  the  inner  room,  half  awake, 
and  wondering  at  the  disturbance.  Her 
huge  bulk  was  like  a  nightmare.  The 
swarthy  wretch  stood  for  an  instant  spell- 
bound in  amazement.  With  a  savage 
growl,  Kroof  launched  herself  at  him,  and 
he,  darting  around  the  table,  wrenched  the 
door  open  and  fled. 


«<  He  ran  wildly  over  the  snow  patches." 


The   Routing  of  the  Philistines     141 


The  other  miscreant,  though  well  occu- 
pied with  Kirstie's  mad  grip  at  his  throat, 
had  seen,  from  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  that 
black  monster  emerge  like  fate  and  charge 
upon  his  comrade.  To  him,  Kroof  looked 
as  big  as  an  ox.  With  a  gasping  curse  he 
tore  himself  free ;  and,  hurling  Kirstie 
half  across  the  table,  he  rushed  from  the 
cabin.  His  panic  was  lest  the  monster 
should  return  and  catch  him,  like  a  rat  in 
a  pit,  where  there  was  no  chance  of  escape. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Kroof  was  just  re- 
turning, with  an  angry  realization  that  her 
foe  could  run  faster  than  she  could.  And 
lo  !  here  was  another  of  the  same  breed  in 
the  very  doorway  before  her.  As  she  con- 
fronted him,  his  eyes  nearly  started  from 
his  head.  With  a  yell  he  dodged  past, 
nimble  as  a  loon's  neck.  Savagely  she 
struck  out  at  him  with  her  punishing  paw. 
Had  she  caught  him,  there  would  have 
been  one  rogue  the  fewer,  and  blood  on 
the  cabin  threshold.  But  she  missed,  and 
he  went  free.  He  ran  wildly  over  the 
snow  patches  in  pursuit  of  his  fleeing  com- 
rade ;  while  Kroof,  all  a-bristle  with  indig- 


142    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

nation,  hurried  into  the  cabin,  to  be  hugged 
and  praised  with  grateful  tears  by  Kirstie 
and  Miranda. 

When  the.  first  of  the  fugitives,  the  lean 
and  swarthy  one,  reached  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  he  paused  to  look  back.  There 
was  no  one  following  but  his  comrade,  who 
came  up  a  moment  later  and  clutched  at 
him,  panting  heavily.  Neither,  for  a  minute 
or  two,  had  breath  for  any  word  but  a 
broken  curse.  The  big,  bristly  scoundrel 
called  Bill  was  bleeding  at  the  wrist  from 
Kirstie's  bite,  and  his  throat,  purple  and 
puffed,  bore  witness  to  the  strength  of 
Kirstie's  fingers.  The  other  had  got  off" 
scot  free.  The  two  stared  at  each  other, 
cowed  and  discomfited. 

"  Ever  see  the  likes  o'  that  ?  "  queried 
Bill,  earnestly. 

"  Be  damned  ef  't  wan't  the  devil  him- 
self!" asseverated  his  companion. 

"  Oh,  hell  !  't  were  jest  a  b'ar  !  "  retorted 
Bill,  in  a  tone  of  would-be  derision.  "  But 
bigger'n  a  steer  !     /  don't  want  none  of  it!  " 

"  B'ar  er  devil,  what's  the  odds  ?  Let's 
git,  says  I  !  "  was  the  response  ;  and  simul- 


The   Routing  of  the   Philistines     143 

taneously  the  two  lifted  their  eyes  to  ob- 
serve the  sun  and  get  their  bearings.  But 
it  was  not  the  sun  they  saw.  Their  jaws 
fell.  Their  hair  rose.  For  a  moment 
they  stood  rooted  to  the  ground  in  abject 
horror. 

Right  above  their  heads,  crouched  close 
upon  the  vast  up-sloping  limb  of  a  hoary 
pine,  lay  a  panther,  looking  down  upon 
them  with  fixed,  dilating  stare.  They  saw 
his  claws,  protruding,  and  set  firmly  into 
the  bark.  They  saw  the  backward,  snarl- 
ing curl  of  his  lips  as  his  head  reached 
down  toward  them  over  the  edge  of  his 
perch.  For  several  choking  heart-beats 
the  picture  bit  itself  into  their  coarse 
brains ;  then,  with  a  gurgling  cry  that 
came  as  one  voice  from  the  two  throats, 
both  sprang  aside  like  hares  and  ran  wildly 
down  the  trail. 

Within  a  few  hours  of  their  arrival  at 
the  Settlement,  this  was  the  story  on  all 
lips,  —  that  Kirstie's  cabin  was  guarded 
by  familiars,  who  could  take  upon  them- 
selves at  will  the  form  of  bear,  panther, 
wolf,  or  mad  bull  moose,  for  the  terroriz- 


144    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

ing  of  such  travellers  as  might  chance  to 
trespass  upon  that  unholy  solitude.  The 
Settlement  held  a  few  superstitious  souls 
who  believed  this  tale ;  while  the  rest  pre- 
tended to  believe  it  because  it  gave  them 
something  to  talk  about.  No  one,  in  fact, 
was  at  all  the  worse  for  it,  except  the  ruf- 
fian called  Bill,  who,  on  one  of  Young 
Dave's  rare  visits  to  the  Settlement,  got 
into  an  argument  with  him  on  the  subject, 
and  incidentally  got  a  licking. 


Chapter   XI 
Miranda  and  Young  Dave 

AFTER  this  the  cabin  in  the  clearing 
ran  small  risk  of  marauders.  To 
the  most  sceptical  homespun  philosopher 
in  the  Settlement  it  seemed  obvious  that 
Kirstie  and  Miranda  had  something  mys- 
terious about  them,  and  had  forsaken 
their  kind  for  the  fellowship  of  the  furtive 
kin.  No  one  but  Old  Dave  had  any 
relish  for  a  neighbourhood  where  bears 
kept  guard,  and  lynxes  slily  frequented, 
and  caribou  bulls  of  a  haughty  temper 
made  themselves  free  of  the  barnyard. 
As  for  Young  Dave,  unwilling  to  fall 
foul  of  the  folk  who  were  so  friendly  to 
Kirstie  and  Miranda,  he  carried  his  traps, 
his  woodcraft,  and  his  cunning  rifle  to  a 
tract  more  remote  from  the  clearing. 

Thus   it  came   that    Miranda  grew  to 
womanhood   with    no    human  companion 
l  i4S 


146    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

but  her  mother.  To  her  mother  she 
stood  so  close  that  the  two  assimilated 
each  other,  as  it  were.  Such  education  as 
Kirstie  possessed,  and  such  culture,  nar- 
row but  significant,  were  Miranda's  by 
absorption.  For  the  rest,  the  quiet  folk 
of  the  wood  insensibly  moulded  her,  and 
the  great  silences,  and  the  wide  wonder 
of  the  skies  at  night,  and  the  solemnity 
of  the  wind.  At  seventeen  she  was  a 
woman,  mature  beyond  her  years,  but 
strange,  with  an  elfish  or  a  faun-like 
strangeness  :  as  if  a  soul  not  all  human 
dwelt  in  her  human  shape.  Silent,  wild, 
unsmiling,  her  sympathies  were  not  with 
her  own  kind,  but  with  the  wild  and 
silent  folk  who  know  not  the  sweetness  of 
laughter.  Yet  she  was  given  to  moods 
of  singing  mirth,  at  long  intervals  ;  and 
her  tenderness  toward  all  pain,  her  horror 
of  blood,  were  things  equally  alien  to  the 
wilderness  creatures,  her  associates.  It 
was  doubtless  this  unbridgable  divergence, 
combining  with  her  sympathy  and  subtle 
comprehension,  which  secured  her  mys- 
terious ascendency  in   the   forest ;  for  by 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       147 

this  time  it  would  never  have  occurred  to 
her  to  step  aside  even  for  a  panther  or 
a  bull  moose  in  his  fury.  Something, 
somehow,  in  the  air  about  her,  told  all  the 
creatures  that  she  was  supreme. 

In  appearance,  Miranda  was  a  contrast 
to  her  mother,  though  her  colouring  was 
almost  the  same.  Miranda  was  a  little 
less  than  middle  height,  slender,  graceful, 
fine-boned,  small  of  hand  and  foot,  deli- 
cate-featured, her  skin  toned  with  the 
clear  browns  of  health  and  the  open  air 
and  the  matchless  cosmetic  of  the  sun. 
Her  abundance  of  bronze-black  hair,  shot 
with  flame-glints  wheresoever  the  sun- 
light struck  it,  came  down  low  over  a 
broad,  low  forehead.  Her  eyes,  in  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  lay  very  much  of  her 
power  over  the  folk  of  the  wood,  were 
very  large  and  dark.  They  possessed  a 
singular  transparency,  akin  to  the  magical 
charm  of  the  forest  shadows.  There  was 
something  unreal  and  haunting  in  this 
inexplicable  clarity  of  her  gaze,  something 
of  that  mystery  which  dwells  in  the  reflec- 
tions of  a  perfect   mirror  of  water.     Her 


148    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

nose,  straight  and  well  modelled,  was 
rather  large  than  small,  with  nostrils 
alertly  sensitive  to  discern  all  the  wilding 
savours,  the  clean,  personal  scents  of  the 
clean-living  creatures  of  the  wood,  and 
even  those  inexpressibly  elusive  perfume- 
heralds  which,  on  certain  days,  come  upon 
the  air,  forerunning  the  changes  of  the 
seasons.  Her  mouth  was  large,  but  not 
too  large  for  beauty,  neither  thin  nor  full, 
of  a  vivid  scarlet,  mobile  and  mutable, 
yet  firm,  and  with  the  edges  of  the  lips 
exactly  denned.  Habitually  reposeful 
and  self-controlled  in  movement,  like  her 
mother,  her  repose  suggested  that  of  a 
bird  poised  upon  the  wing,  liable  at  any 
instant  to  incalculable  celerities ;  while 
that  of  Kirstie  was  like  the  calm  of  a  hill 
with  the  eternal  disrupting  fire  at.  its 
heart.  The  scarlet  ribbon  which  Miranda 
the  woman,  like  Miranda  the  child,  wore 
always  about  her  neck,  seemed  in  her  the 
symbol  of  an  ineradicable  strangeness  of 
spirit,  while  Kirstie's  scarlet  kerchief  ex- 
pressed but  the  passion  which  burned 
perennial  beneath  its  wearer's  quietude. 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       149 

Being  in  all  respects  natural  and  un- 
selfconscious,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  Miranda  was  inconsistent.  The 
truce   which   she    had    created    about  her 

—  the  pax  Miranda  —  had  so  long  kept 
her  eyes  from  the  hated  sight  of  blood 
that  she  had  forgotten  death,  and  did  not 
more  than  half  believe  in  pain.  Never- 
theless she  was  still  a  shaft  of  doom  to  the 
trout  in  the  lake  and  river.  Fishing  was 
a  delight  to  her.  It  satisfied  some  fierce 
instinct  inherited  from  her  forefathers, 
which  she  never  thought  to  analyze. 
The  musical  rushing  of  the  stream  ;  the 
foam  and  clamour  of  the  shallow  falls ; 
the  deep,  black,  gleaming  pools  with  the 
roots  of  larch  and  hemlock  overhanging; 
the  sullen  purple  and  amber  of  the  eddies 
with  their  slowly  swirling  patches  of  froth, 

—  all  these  allured  her,  though  with  a 
threat.  And  then  the  stealthy  casting  of 
the  small,  baited  hook  or  glittering  fly, 
the  tense  expectancy,  the  electrifying  tug 
upon  the  line,  the  thrill,  the  exultation  of 
the  landing,  and  the  beauty  of  the  spotted 
prey,  silver  and  vermilion,   on  the  olive 


150    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

carpet  of  the  moss  !  It  hardly  occurred 
to  her  that  they  were  breathing,  sentient 
creatures,  these  fish  of  the  pools.  She 
would  doubtless  have  resented  the  idea 
of  any  kinship  between  herself  and  these 
cold  inhabiters  of  a  hostile  element.  In 
fact,  Miranda  was  very  close  to  nature, 
and  she  could  not  escape  her  part  in 
nature's  never  ceasing  war  of  opposites. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  summer  Miranda 
was  loitering  homeward  from  the  stream 
with  a  goodly  string  of  trout.  It  was  a 
warm  day  and  windless,  and  the  time  of 
year  not  that  which  favours  the  fisherman. 
But  in  those  cold  waters  the  fish  will  rise 
even  in  July  and  August,  and  Miranda's 
bait,  or  Miranda's  home-tied  fly,  was  al- 
ways a  killing  lure  to  them.  She  carried 
her  catch — one  gaping-jawed  two-pounder, 
and  a  half  dozen  smaller  victims  —  strung 
through  the  crimson  gills  on  a  forked 
branch  of  alder.  Her  dark  face  was 
flushed ;  her  hair  (she  never  wore  a  hat)  was 
dishevelled  ;  her  eyes  were  very  wide  and 
abstracted,  taking  in  the  varied  shadows,  — 
the  boulders,  the  markings  on  the   bark 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       151 


of  the  tree  trunks,  the  occasional  flicker- 
ing moths,  and  the  solemn  little  brown 
owl  that  sat  in  the  cleft  of  the  pine  tree, 
yet  seeming  to  see  not  these  but  some- 
thing within  or  beyond  them. 

Suddenly,  however,  they  were  arrested 
by  a  sight  which  scattered  their  abstraction. 
Their  focus  seemed  to  shorten,  their  ex- 
pression concentrated  to  a  strained  inten- 
sity, then  lightened  to  a  greyness  with 
anger  as  she  took  a  hasty  step  forward, 
and  paused,  uncertain  for  a  moment  what 
to  do. 

Before  her  was  a  little  open  glade,  full 
of  sun,  secure  and  inviting.  At  its  far- 
ther edge  a  thick-branched,  low  beech 
tree,  reaching  out  from  the  confusion  of 
trunks  and  vistas,  cast  a  pleasant  differen- 
tiated shade.  Here  in  this  shade  a  young 
man  lay  sleeping,  sprawled  carelessly,  his 
head  on  one  arm.  He  was  tall,  gaunt, 
clad  in  grey  homespuns  and  a  well-worn 
buckskin  jacket.  His  red-brown  hair 
was  cut  somewhat  short,  his  light  yel- 
low moustache,  long  and  silky,  looked  the 
lighter  by  contrast  with  the  ruddy  tan  of 


152    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

his  face.  His  rifle  leaned  against  the  tree 
near  by,  while  he  slept  the  luxurious  sleep 
of  an  idle  summer  afternoon. 

But  not  five  paces  away  crouched  an 
immense  panther,  flattened  to  the  ground, 
watching  him. 

The  beast  was  ready,  at  the  first  move- 
ment or  sign  of  life,  to  spring  upon  the 
sleeper's  throat.  Its  tail  rigidly  out- 
stretched, twitched  slightly  at  the  tip. 
Its  great,  luminous  eyes  were  so  intently 
fixed  upon  the  anticipated  prey  that  it  did 
not  see  Miranda's  quiet  approach. 

To  the  girl  the  sleeper  seemed  some- 
thing very  beautiful,  in  the  impersonal 
way  that  a  splendid  flower,  or  a  tall  young 
tree  in  the  open,  or  the  scarlet-and-pearl 
of  sunrise  is  beautiful  —  not  a  thing  as 
near  to  herself  as  the  beasts  of  the  wood, 
whom  she  knew.  But  she  was  filled  with 
strange,  protective  fury  at  the  thought 
of  peril  to  this  interesting  creature.  Her 
hesitation  was  but  for  a  moment.  She 
knew  the  ferocity  of  the  panther  very 
well,  and  trembled  lest  the  sleeper  should 
move,  or  twitch  a  muscle.     She  stepped 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       153 

up  close  to  his  side,  and  fixed  the  animal's 
eyes  with  her  disconcerting  gaze. 

"Get  off!"  she  ordered  sharply,  with 
a  gesture  of  command. 

The  beast  had  doubtless  a  very  plenti- 
ful ignorance  of  the  English  language,  but 
gesture  is  a  universal  speech.  He  under- 
stood it  quite  clearly.  He  faced  her  eye, 
and  endured  it  for  some  seconds,  being 
minded  to  dispute  its  authority.  Then 
his  glance  shifted,  his  whole  attitude 
changed.  He  rose  from  his  crouching 
posture,  his  tail  drooped,  his  tension 
relaxed,  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder, 
then  turned  and  padded  furtively  away. 
Just  as  he  was  leaving,  the  man  awoke 
with  a  start,  sat  up,  gave  one  wondering 
look  at  Miranda,  caught  sight  of  the 
panther's  retreating  form,  and  reached  for 
his  rifle. 

Quick  as  light,  Miranda  intervened. 
Stepping  between  his  hand  and  its  pur- 
pose, she  flamed  out  against  him  with 
sudden  anger. 

"  How  dare  you  — go  to  shoot  him  !  " 
she  cried,  her  voice  trembling. 


154    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

He  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  was 
staring  at  her  flushed  face  with  a  mixture 
of  admiration  and  bewilderment. 

"  But  he  was  goin'  to  jump  onto  me  !  " 
he  protested. 

"  Well,"  rejoined  Miranda,  curtly,  "  he 
didn't !  And  you've  got  no  call  to  shoot 
him !  " 

"  Why  didn't  he  ? "  asked  the  young  man. 

"  I  drove  him  off.  If  I'd  thought  you'd 
shoot  him,  I'd  have  let  him  jump  onto 
you,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  Why    didn't    he   jump    onto   you  ?  ' 
asked   the   stranger,   his   keen    grey    eyes 
lighting  up  as  if  he  began  to  understand 
the  situation. 

"  Because  he  durs'n't, — and  he  wouldn't 
want  to,  neither  !  " 

"  I  calculate,"  said  the  stranger,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand,  while  a  smile  softened 
the  thoughtful  severity  of  his  face,  "  that 
you  must  be  little  Mirandy." 

"  My  name  is  Miranda,"  she  answered, 
ignoring  the  outstretched  hand  ;  "  but  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  coming 
here  into  my  woods  to  kill  my  friends." 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       155 

"I  wouldn't  hurt  a  hair  of  'em!"  he 
asserted,  with  a  mingling  of  fervour  and 
amusement.  "  But  ain't  I  one  o'  your 
friends,  too,  Mirandy  ?  I  used  to  be, 
anyway." 

He  took  a  step  nearer,  still  holding 
out  a  pleading  hand.  Miranda  drew 
back,  and  put  her  hands  behind  her. 
"  I  don't  know  you,"  she  persisted, 
but  now  with  something  of  an  air  of 
wilfulness  rather  than  of  hostility.  Old 
memories  had  begun  to  stir  in  forgotten 
chambers  of  her  brain. 

"  You  used  to   be  friends  with   Young  , 
Dave,"  he  said,  in  an  eager  half  whisper. 
Miranda's  beauty  and  the  strangeness  of 
it  were  getting  into  his    long-untroubled 
blood. 

The  girl  at  once  put  out  her  hand  with 
a  frank  kindness.  "  Oh,  I  remember  ! ' 
she  said.  "  You've  been  a  long  time  for- 
getting us,  haven't  you  ?  But  never  mind. 
Come  along  with  me  to  the  clearing,  and 
see  mother,  and  get  some  supper." 

Dave  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  invi- 
tation. 


156    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  Mirandy,  I  reckon 
I  will,"  said  he ;  and  stepping  to  one  side 
he  picked  up  his  rifle.  But  at  the  sight 
of  the  weapon  Miranda's  new  friendliness 
froze  up,  and  a  resentful  gleam  came  into 
her  great  eyes. 

"  Let  me  heft  it,"  she  demanded 
abruptly,  holding  out  an  imperative 
hand. 

Dave  gave  it  up  at  once,  with  a  depre- 
cating air,  though  a  ghost  of  a  smile  flick- 
ered under  the  long,  yellow  droop  of  his 
moustache. 

Miranda  had  no  interest  in  the  weight 
or  balance  of  the  execrated  weapon  :  pos- 
session of  it  was  all  her  purpose. 

"  I'll  carry  it,"  she  remarked  abruptly. 
"  You  take  these,"  and  handing  over  to 
him  the  string  of  trout,  she  turned  to  the 
trail. 

Dave  followed,  now  at  her  side,  now 
dropping  respectfully  behind,  as  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  way  required.  Nothing 
was  said  for  some  time.  The  girl's  in- 
stinctive interest  in  the  man  whom  she 
had   so    opportunely   protected  was    now 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       157 

quenched  in  antagonism,  as  she  thought 
upon  his  murderous  calling.  With  sharp 
resentment  she  imagined  him  nursing  an 
indulgent  contempt  for  her  friendship 
with  the  furry  and  furtive  creatures.  She 
burned  with  retrospective  compassion  for 
all  the  beasts  which  had  fallen  to  his  bul- 
lets, or  his  blind  and  brutal  traps.  A 
trap  was,  in  her  eyes,  the  unpardonable 
horror.  Had  she  not  once,  when  a  small 
girl,  seen  a  lynx  —  perhaps  it  was  Ganner 
himself — caught  by  the  hind  quarters  in 
a  dead-fall  ?  The  beast  was  not  quite 
dead  —  it  had  been  for  days  dying ;  its 
eyes  were  dulled,  yet  widely  staring,  and 
its  tongue,  black  and  swollen,  stuck  out 
between  its  grinning  jaws.  She  had  seen 
at  once  that  the  case  was  past  relief;  and 
she  would  have  ended  the  torture  had  her 
little  hands  known  how  to  kill.  But  help- 
less and  anguished  as  she  was,  she  had  fled 
from  the  spot,  and  shudderingly  cried  her 
eyes  out  for  an  hour.  Then  it  had  come 
over  her  with  a  wrenching  of  remorse  that 
the  dreadful  tongue  craved  water  ;  and  she 
had  flown  back  with  a  tin  cup  of  the  as- 


158    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

suaging  fluid,  only  to  find  the  animal  just 
dead.  The  pain  of  thinking  that  she 
might  have  eased  its  last  torments,  and 
had  not,  bit  the  whole  scene  ineffaceably 
into  her  heart ;  and  now,  with  this  splen- 
did trapper,  the  kind  friend  of  her  baby- 
hood, walking  at  her  side,  the  picture  and 
its  pangs  returned  with  a  horrible  incon- 
gruity. But  what  most  of  all  hardened 
her  heart  against  the  man  was  a  sense  of 
threat  which  his  atmosphere  conveyed  to 
her,  —  a  menace,  in  some  vague  way,  to 
her  whole  system  of  life,  her  sympathies, 
her  contentments,  her  calm. 

Dave,  on  his  part,  felt  himself  deep 
in  the  cold  flood  of  disfavour,  and  solici- 
tously pondered  a  way  of  return  to  the 
sunshine  of  his  companion's  smile.  His 
half-wild  intuition  told  him  at  once  that 
Miranda's  anger  was  connected  with  his 
rifle,  and  he  in  part  understood  her  aver- 
sion to  his  craft.  He  hungered  to  con- 
ciliate her ;  and  as  he  trod  noiselessly  the 
scented  gloom  of  the  arches,  the  mottled 
greens  and  greys  and  browns  of  the  trail, 
he  laid  his  plans  with  far-considering  pru- 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       159 

dence.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  quietly 
masterful  nature  that  he  not  once  thought 
of  conciliating  by  giving  up  gun  and  trap 
and  turning  to  a  vocation  more  humane. 
No,  the  ways  and  means  which  occupied 
his  thoughts  were  the  ways  and  means 
of  converting  Miranda  to  his  own  point 
of  view.  He  felt,  though  not  philosophic 
enough  to  formulate  it  clearly,  that  he  had 
all  nature  behind  him  to  help  mould  the 
girl  to  his  will,  while  she  stood  not  only 
alone,  but  with  a  grave  peril  of  treason  in 
her  own  heart. 

His     silence    was     good     policy    with 
Miranda,   who   was    used   to   silence   and 
loved  it.      But  being  a  woman,  she  loved 
another's  silence  even  better  than  her  own. 
"You  are  a  hunter,  ain't  you?"  she  in- 
quired at  last,  without  turning  her  head. 
"  Yes,  Mirandy." 
"  And  a  trapper,  too  ?  " 
"Yes,  Mirandy;  so  they  call  me." 
"  And  you  like  to  kill  the  beasts  ? ' 
"Well,   yes,    Mirandy,  kind   of,  least- 
ways, I   like  them  ;  and,  well,  you've  jest 
got  to  kill  them,  to  live  yourself.     That's 


160    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

jest  what  they  do,  kill  each  other,  so's 
they  can  live  themselves.  An'  it's  the 
only  kind  of  life  /  can  live  —  'way  in  the 
woods,  with  the  shadows,  an'  the  silence, 
an'  the  trees,  an'  the  sky,  an'  the  clean 
smells,  an'  the  whispers  you  can't  never 
understand." 

Dave  shut  his  mouth  with  a  firm  snap 
at  the  close  of  this  unwonted  outburst. 
Never  to  any  one  before  had  he  so 
explained  his  passion  for  the  hunter's 
life;  and  now  Miranda,  who  had  turned 
square  about,  was  looking  at  him  with  a 
curious  searching  expression.  It  discon- 
certed him  ;  and  he  feared,  under  those 
unescapable  eyes,  that  he  had  talked  non- 
sense. Nevertheless  when  she  spoke 
there  was  a  less  chilling  note  in  her  voice, 
though  the  words  were  not  encouraging. 

"If  you  like  killing  the  creatures,"  she 
said  slowly,  "  it's  no  place  for  you  here. 
So  maybe  you  hadn't  better  come  to  the 
clearing." 

"  I  don't  like  killing  your  beasts,  any- 
ways," he  protested  eagerly.  "An'  ever 
sence  I   heard  how  you  an'  the  bears  an' 


Miranda  and  Young  Dave       161 


the  caribou  was  friends  like,  I've  kep' 
clear  the  other  side  of  the  divide,  an' 
never  set  a  trap  this  side  the  Quah-Davic 
valley.  As  for  these  critters  you  take 
such  stock  in,  Mirandy,  I  wouldn't  harm 
a  hair  of  one  of  'em,  I  swear  !  " 

"  You  hadn't  better  !  I'd  kill  you  my- 
self," she  rejoined  sharply,  with  a  swift, 
dangerous  flame  in  her  strange  gaze  ;  "  or 
I'd  set  Kroof  on  you,"  she  added,  a  gleam 
of  mirth  suddenly  irradiating  her  face,  and 
darkening  her  eyes  richly,  till  Dave  was 
confused  by  her  loveliness.  But  he  kept 
his  wits  sufficiently  to  perceive,  as  she  set 
her  face  again  up  the  trail,  that  he  was 
permitted   to  go  with   her. 

"  Who's  Kroof? '  he  asked  humbly, 
stepping  close  to  her  side  and  ignoring 
the  fact  that  the  pathway,  just  there,  was 
but  wide  enough  for  one. 

"  My  best  friend,"  answered  Miranda. 
"You'll  see  at  the  clearing.  You'd  bet- 
ter look  out  for  Kroof,  let  me  tell  you  ! ' 


Chapter    XII 
Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing 

DURING  the  rest  of  the  journey  — 
a  matter  of  an  hour's  walking  — 
there  was  little  talk  between  Miranda  and 
Dave;  for  the  ancient  wood  has  the 
property  that  it  makes  talk  seem  trivial. 
With  those  who  journey  through  the 
great  vistas  and  clear  twilight  of  the  trees, 
thoughts  are  apt  to  interchange  by  the 
medium  of  silence  and  sympathy,  or  else 
to  remain  uncommunicated.  Whatever 
her  misgivings,  her  resentments  and  hos- 
tilities, Miranda  was  absorbed  in  her  com- 
panion. So  deeply  was  she  absorbed  that 
she  failed  to  notice  an  unwonted  empti- 
ness in  the  shadows  about  her. 

In  very  truth,  the  furtive  folk  had  all 
fled  away.  The  presence  of  the  hunter 
filled  them  with  instinctive  fear;  and  in 
their  chief  defence,   their    moveless    self- 

162 


Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     163 

effacement,  they  had  no  more  any  confi- 
dence while  within  reach  of  Miranda's 
eyes.  The  stranger  was  like  herself — 
and  though  they  trusted  her  in  all  else, 
they  knew  the  compulsion  of  nature,  and 
feared  lest  she  might  betray  them  to  her 
own  kind.  Therefore  they  held  prudently 
aloof,  —  the  hare  and  the  porcupine,  the 
fox  and  the  red  cat ;  the  raccoon  slipped 
into  his  hole  in  the  maple  tree,  and  the 
wood-mice  scurried  under  the  hemlock 
root,  and  the  woodpecker  kept  the  thick- 
ness of  a  tree  beween  his  foraging  and 
Miranda's  eye.  Only  the  careless  and 
inquisitive  partridge,  sitting  on  a  birch 
limb  just  over  the  trail,  curiously  awaited 
their  approach  ;  till  suddenly  an  intuition 
of  peril  awoke  him,  and  he  fled  on  wild 
wings  away  through  the  diminishing 
arches.  Even  the  little  brown  owl  in  the 
pine  crotch  snapped  his  bill  and  hissed 
uneasily  as  the  two  passed  under  his 
perch.  Yet  all  these  signs,  that  would 
have  been  to  her  in  other  moods  a  loud 
proclamation  of  change,  now  passed  un- 
noted.      Miranda   was    receiving   a    new 


164    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

impression,  and   the  experience  engrossed 
her. 

Arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
Dave  was  struck  by  the  alteration  that  had 
come  over  it  since  that  day,  thirteen  years 
back,  when  he  had  aided  Kirstie's  flight 
from  the  Settlement.  It  was  still  bleak, 
and  overbrooded  by  a  vast  unroutable 
stillness,  for  the  swelling  of  the  land  lifted 
it  from  the  forest's  shelter  and  made  it 
neighbour  to  the  solitary  sky.  But  the 
open  fields  were  prosperous  with  blue- 
flowered  flax,  pink-and-white  buckwheat, 
the  green  sombreness  of  potatoes,  and  the 
gallant  ranks  of  corn  ;  while  half  a  dozen 
sleek  cattle  dotted  the  stumpy  pasture. 
The  fences  were  well  kept.  The  cabin 
and  the  barn  were  hedged  about  with 
shining  thickets  of  sunflower,  florid  holly- 
hocks, and  scarlet-runner  beans.  It  gave 
the  young  woodman  a  kind  of  pang, — 
this  bit  of  homely  sweetness  projected,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  infinite  solitude  of  the 
universe.  It  made  him  think,  somehow, 
of  the  smile  of  a  lost  child  that  does  not 
know  it  is  lost. 


Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     165 

Presently,  to  his  astonishment,  there 
rose  up  from  behind  a  blackberry  coppice 
the  very  biggest  bear  he  had  ever  seen. 
The  huge  animal  paused  at  sight  of  a 
stranger,  and  sat  up  on  her  hind  quarters 
to  inspect  him.  Then  she  dropped  again 
upon  all  fours,  shuffled  to  Miranda's  side, 
and  affectionately  smuggled  her  nose  into 
the  girl's  palm.  Dave  looked  on  with 
smiling  admiration.  The  picture  appealed 
to  him.  And  Miranda,  scanning  his  face 
with  jealous  keenness,  could  detect  therein 
nothing  but  approval. 

"This  is  Kroof,"  said  she,  graciously. 

"  Never  seen  such  a  fine  bear  in  all  my 
life  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  sincerely 
enough  ;  and  with  a  rash  unmindfulness 
of  the  reserve  which  governs  the  manners 
of  all  the  furtive  folk  (except  the  squir- 
rels), he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  stroke 
Kroof's  splendid  coat. 

The  presumption  was  instantly  re- 
sented. With  an  indignant  squeal  Kroof 
swung  aside  and  struck  at  the  offending 
hand,  missing  it  by  a  hair's  breadth,  as 
Dave  snatched  it  back  out  of  peril.     A 


1 66    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

flush  of  anger  darkened  his  face,  but 
he  said  nothing.  Miranda,  however, 
was  annoyed,  feeling  her  hospitality  dis- 
honoured. With  a  harsh  rebuke  she 
slapped  the  bear  sharply  over  the  snout, 
and  drew  a  little  away  from  her. 

Kroof  was  amazed.  Not  since  the 
episode  of  the  hare  had  Miranda  struck 
her,  and  then  the  baby  hand  had  con- 
veyed no  offence.  Now  it  was  different : 
and  she  felt  that  the  tall  stranger  was  the 
cause  of  the  difference.  Her  heart  swelled 
fiercely  within  her  furry  sides.  She  gave 
Miranda  one  look  of  bitter  reproach,  and 
shambled  off  slowly  down  the  green  alleys 
of  the  potato  field. 

During  some  moments  of  hesitation, 
Miranda  looked  from  Kroof  to  Dave,  and 
from  Dave  to  Kroof.  Then  her  heart 
smote  her.  With  a  little  sob  in  her 
throat,  she  ran  swiftly  after  the  bear,  and 
clung  to  her  neck  with  murmured  words 
of  penitence.  But  Kroof,  paying  no 
attention  whatever,  kept  her  way  steadily 
to  the  woods,  dragging  Miranda  as  if  she 
had   been   a   bramble  caught   on   her  fur. 


Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     167 

Not  till  she  had  reached  the  very  edge  of 
the  forest,  at  the  sunny  corner  where  she 
had  been  wont  to  play  with  Miranda  dur- 
ing the  far-off  first  years  of  their  friend- 
ship, did  the  old  bear  stop.  There  she 
turned,  sat  up  on  her  haunches,  eyed  the 
girl's  face  steadily  for  some  seconds,  and 
then  licked  her  gently  on  the  ear.  It 
meant  forgiveness,  reconciliation ;  but 
Kroof  was  too  deeply  hurt  to  go  back 
with  Miranda  to  the  cabin.  In  response 
to  the  girl's  persuasions,  she  but  licked 
her  hands  assiduously,  as  if  pleading  to 
be  not  misunderstood,  then  dropped  upon 
all  fours  and  moved  off  into  the  forest, 
leaving  Miranda  to  gaze  after  her  with 
tearful  eyes. 

When  she  went  back  to  where  the 
young  hunter  awaited  her,  Miranda's 
friendly  interest  had  vanished,  and  in  a 
chilly  silence  —  very  unlike  that  which 
had  been  eloquent  between  them  a  short 
half  hour  before  —  the  two  walked  on  up 
to  the  cabin.  In  Kirstie's  welcome  Dave 
found  all  the  warmth  he  could  wish,  with 
never    a    reproach    for    his    long    years 


1 68    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

of  neglect,  —  for  which,  therefore,  he  the 
more  bitterly  reproached  himself.  The 
best  of  all  protections  against  the  stings 
of  self-reproach  is  the  reproach  of  others ; 
and  of  this  protection  Kirstie  ruthlessly- 
deprived  him.  She  asked  about  all  the 
details  of  his  life  as  a  solitary  trapper, 
congratulated  him  on  his  success,  ap- 
peared sympathetic  toward  his  calling, 
and  refrained  from  attempting  his  con- 
version to  vegetarianism.  Looking  at 
her  noble  figure,  her  face  still  beautiful 
in  its  strength  and  calm,  the  young  man 
harked  back  in  his  memory  to  the  Settle- 
ment's scandals  and  decided  that  Frank 
Craig  had  never,  of  his  own  will,  forsaken 
a  woman  so  altogether  gracious  and  de- 
sirable. He  resolved  that  he  would  come 
often  to  the  cabin  in  the  clearing  —  even 
if  Miranda  was  unpleasant  to  him. 

Unpleasant  she  certainly  was,  all  the 
evening,  coldly  unconscious  of  his  pres- 
ence, except,  of  course,  at  supper,  where 
civility  as  well  as  hospitality  obliged  her 
to  keep  his  plate  supplied,  and  not  to 
sour  his  meal  with   an   obstinate    silence. 


Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     169 

He  watched  her  stealthily  while  he  talked 
to  her  mother;  and  the  fact  that  her  wild 
and  subtle  beauty,  thrilling  his  blood, 
made  ridiculous  the  anger  in  his  heart, 
did  not  prevent  his  accomplishing  a 
brave  meal  of  eggs,  steaming  buttered 
pancakes  with  molasses,  and  sweet  cottage 
cheese  with  currant  jelly.  Kirstie  would 
not  hear  of  his  going  that  night,  so  he 
stayed,  and  slept  in  the  bunk  which  his 
father  had  occupied  a  dozen  years  before. 

In  the  morning  he  was  diligent  to  help 
with  the  barnyard  chores,  and  won  golden 
comment  from  Kirstie ;  but  he  found 
Miranda  still  ice  to  his  admiration. 
About  breakfast  time,  however,  Kroof 
reappeared,  with  an  air  of  having  quite 
forgotten  the  evening's  little  unpleasant- 
ness. Of  Dave  she  took  no  notice  at  all, 
looking  through,  beyond,  and  around  him ; 
but  with  her  return  Miranda's  manner 
became  a  shade  less  austere.  Her  self- 
reproach  was  mitigated  when  she  saw  that 
her  passing  interest  in  the  newcomer  had 
not  unpardonably  wronged  her  old  friend. 

Dave  was  bound  for  the  Settlement,  to 


170    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

arrange  some  business  of  bounties  and 
pelt  sales.  In  spite  of  Kirstie's  hospita- 
ble arguments,  he  insisted  on  setting  out 
as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over.  As  he 
picked  up  his  rifle  from  the  corner  be- 
side his  bunk,  Miranda,  as  a  sign  of 
peace  between  them,  handed  him  his 
pouch  of  bullets.  But  not  so  his  big 
powder-flask,  on  its  gay  green  cord.  This 
she  took  to  the  door,  and  coolly  emptied 
its  contents  into  a  clump  of  burdocks. 
Then,  with  an  enigmatic  smile,  she  handed 
back  the  flask  to  its  owner. 

The  young  hunter  was  annoyed.  Pow- 
der was,  in  his  eyes,  a  sacred  thing,  and 
such  a  wanton  waste  of  it  seemed  to  him 
little  less  than  criminal. 

"  That  was  all  the  powder  I  had  'twixt 
here  an'  the  Settlement,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  rebuke. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Miranda. 

"  But  I  don't  see  no  sense  in  wastin' 
it  that  way,"  he  persisted. 

"  No  knowing  what  may  happen  be- 
tween here  and  the  Settlement,"  rejoined 
the  girl,  meaningly. 


Young  Dave  at  the  Clearing     171 

Dave  flushed  with  anger.  "  Didn't  1 
pass  ye  my  word  I'd  not  harm  a  hair  of 
one  of  your  beasts  ? '    he  demanded. 

"Then  what  do  you  want  with  the 
powder  this  side  of  the  Settlement  ? '  she 
inquired,  with  tantalizing  pertinence. 

The  young  hunter,  though  steady  and 
clear  in  his  thought,  was  by  no  means  apt 
in  repartee,  and  Miranda  had  him  at  a 
cruel  disadvantage.  Confused  by  her  last 
question,  he  blundered  badly  in  his  reply. 
"But  —  what  if  a  painter  should  jump 
onto  me,  like  he  was  goin'  to  yesterday  ? ' 
he  protested. 

"  I  thought  you  promised  you  wouldn't 
harm  a  hair  of  one  of  them,"  suggested 
Miranda,  thoughtful  yet  triumphant. 

"Would  you  have  me  let  the  critter 
kill  me,  jest  to  keep  my  promise  ? '  he 
asked,  humour  beginning  to  correct  his 
vexation. 

"  I  don't  see  why  not,"  murmured 
Miranda.  "Anyhow,  you've  got  to  do 
without  the  powder.  And  you  needn't 
be  frightened,  Dave,"  —  this  very  patro- 
nizingly, —  "  for  your  father  never  carries 


172    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

a  gun  on  our  trail,  and  he's  never  needed 
one  yet." 

"Well,  then,"  laughed  Dave,  "I'll  try 
an'  keep  my  hair  on,  an'  not  be  clean 
skeered  to  death.  Good-by,  Kirstie ! 
Good-by,  Mirandy  !  I'll  look  'round  this 
way  afore  long,  like  as  not." 

"  Inside  of  twelve  years  ?  "  said  Kirstie, 
with  a  rare  smile,  which  robbed  her  words 
of  all  reproach. 

"  Likely,"  responded  Dave,  and  he 
swung  off  with  long,  active  strides  down 
the  trail. 

Miranda's  eyes  followed  him  with  re- 
luctance. 


Chapter  XIII 

Milking-time 

YOUNG  Dave  Titus  was  not  without 
the  rudiments  of  a  knowledge  of 
woman,  few  as  had  been  his  opportunities 
for  acquiring  that  rarest  and  most  difficult 
of  sciences.  He  made  no  second  visit  to 
the  cabin  in  the  clearing  till  he  had  kept 
Miranda  many  weeks  wondering  at  his 
absence.  Then,  when  the  stalks  were 
whitey  grey,  and  the  pumpkins  golden 
yellow  in  the  corn-field,  and  the  buck- 
wheat patch  was  crisply  brown,  and  the 
scarlet  of  the  maples  was  beginning  to 
fade  out  along  the  forest  edges,  he  came 
drifting  back  lazily  one  late  afternoon, 
just  as  the  slow  tink-a-tonk  of  the  cow-bells 
was  beginning  the  mellow  proclamation  of 
milking-time  and  sundown.  The  tonic 
chill  of  autumn  in  the  wilderness  open 
caught     his     nostrils     deliciously     as     he 

173 


174    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

emerged  from  the  warmer  stillness  of  the 
woods.  The  smell,  the  sound  of  the  cow- 
bells, —  these  were  homely  sweet  after  the 
day-long  solitude  of  the  trail.  But  the 
scene  —  the  grey  cabin  lifted  skyward  on 
the  gradual  swell  of  the  fields  —  was  lone- 
liness itself.  The  clearing  seemed  to  Dave 
a  little  beautiful  lost  world,  and  it  gave 
him  an  ache  at  the  heart  to  think  of  the 
years  that  Miranda  and  Kirstie  had  dwelt 
in  it  alone. 

Just  beyond  the  edge  of  the  forest  he 
came  upon  Kroof,  grubbing  and  munch- 
ing some  wild  roots.  He  spoke  to  her 
deferentially,  but  she  swung  her  huge 
rump  about  and  firmly  ignored  him.  He 
was  anxious  to  win  the  shrewd  beast's 
favour,  or  at  least  her  tolerance,  both  be- 
cause she  had  stirred  his  imagination  and 
because  he  felt  that  her  good-will  would 
be,  in  Miranda's  eyes,  a  most  convincing 
testimonial  to  his  worth.  But  he  wisely 
refrained  from  forcing  himself  upon  her 
notice. 

"  Go  slow,  my  son,  go  slow.  It's  a 
she;    an'   more'n   likely  you    don't   know 


Milking-time  175 


jest  how  to  take  her,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, after  a  fashion  acquired  in  the  intermi- 
nable solitude  of  his  camp.  Leaving  Kroof 
to  her  moroseness,  he  hastened  up  to  the 
cabin,  in  hopes  that  he  would  be  in  time 
to  help  Kirstie  and  Miranda  with  the 
milking. 

Just  before  he  got  to  the  door  he  expe- 
rienced a  surprise,  so  far  as  he  was  capable 
of  being  surprised  at  anything  which  might 
take  place  in  these  unreal  surroundings. 
From  behind  the  cabin  came  Wapiti  the 
buck,  or  perhaps  a  younger  Wapiti,  on 
whom  the  spirit  of  his  sire  had  descended 
in  double  portion.  Close  after  him  came 
two  does,  sniffing  doubtfully  at  the  smell 
of  a  stranger  on  the  air.  To  Wapiti  a 
stranger  at  the  cabin,  where  such  visitants 
were  unheard  of,  must  needs  be  an  enemy, 
or  at  least  a  suspect.  He  stepped  deli- 
cately out  into  the  path,  stamped  his  fine 
hoof  in  defiance,  and  lowered  his  armory 
of  antlers.  They  were  keen  and  hard,  these 
October  antlers,  for  this  was  the  moon 
of  battle,  and  he  was  ready.  In  rutting 
season  Wapiti  was  every  inch  a  hero. 


176    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Now  Dave  Titus  well  knew  that  this 
was  no  bluff  of  Wapiti's.  He  was  amused 
and  embarrassed.  He  could  not  fight 
this  unexpected  foe,  for  victory  or  defeat 
would  be  equally  fatal  to  his  hope  of  pleas- 
ing Miranda.  As  a  consequence,  here  he 
was,  Dave  Titus,  the  noted  hunter,  the 
Nimrod,  held  up  by  a  rutting  buck ! 
Well,  the  trouble  was  of  Miranda's  mak- 
ing. She'd  have  to  get  him  out  of  it. 
Facing  the  defiant  Wapiti  at  a  distance 
of  five  or  six  paces,  he  rested  the  butt  of 
his  rifle  on  his  toe  and  sent  a  mellow, 
resonant  heigh-lo,  heigh-lol  echoing  over 
the  still  air.  The  forest  edges  took  it  up, 
answering  again  and  again.  Kirstie  and 
Miranda  came  to  the  door  to  see  who 
gave  the  summons,  and  they  understood 
the  situation  at  a  glance. 

"  Call  off  yer  dawg,  Mirandy,"  cried 
Young  Dave,  "  an'  I'll  come  an'  pay  ye  a 
visit. 

"  He  thinks  you're  going  to  hurt  us," 
explained  Kirstie ;  and  Miranda,  with  a 
gay  laugh,  ran  to  the  rescue. 

"  You   mustn't  frighten   the  good  little 


Milking-time  177 


boy,  Wapiti,"  she  cried,  pushing  the  big 
deer  out  of  her  path  and  running  to  Dave's 
side.  As  soon  as  Wapiti  saw  Miranda 
with  Dave,  he  comprehended  that  the 
stranger  was  not  a  foe.  With  a  flourish 
of  his  horns  he  stepped  aside  and  led  his 
herd  off  through  the  barnyard. 

Arriving  at  the  door,  where  Kirstie, 
gracious,  but  impassive,  awaited  him,  Dave 
exclaimed :  "  She's  saved  my  life  ag'in, 
Kirstie,  that  girl  o'  yourn.  First  it's  a 
painter,  an'  now  it's  a  rutting  buck. 
Wonder  what  it'll  be  next  time ! ': 

"A  rabbit,  like  as  not,  or  a  squir'l, 
maybe,"  suggested  Miranda,  unkindly. 

"  Whatever  it  be,"  persisted  Dave, 
"third  time's  luck  for  me,  anyways.  If 
you  save  my  life  agin,  Mirandy,  you'll 
hev'  to  take  care  o'  me  altogether.  I'll  git 
to  kind  of  depend  on  ye." 

"  Then  I  reckon,  Dave,  you'll  get  out 
of  your  next  scrape  by  yourself,"  answered 
Miranda,  with  discouraging  decision. 

"  That's  one  on  you,  Dave,"  remarked 
Kirstie,  with  a  strictly  neutral  air.  But 
behind    Miranda's   back  she  shot  him  a 

N 


178    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

look  which  said,  "  Don't  you  mind  what 
she  says,  she's  all  right  in  her  heart ! " 
which,  indeed,  was  far  from  being  the 
case.  Had  Dave  been  so  injudicious  as 
to  woo  openly  at  this  stage  of  Miranda's 
feelings,  he  would  have  been  dismissed 
with  speedy  emphasis. 

Dave  was  in  time  to  help  with  the 
milking,  —  a  process  which  he  boyishly 
enjoyed.  The  cows,  five  of  them,  were 
by  now  lowing  at  the  bars.  Kirstie 
brought  out  three  tin  pails.  "You  can 
help  us,  if  you  like,  Dave,"  she  cried, 
while  Miranda  looked  her  doubt  of  such 
a  clumsy  creature's  capacity  for  the  gentle 
art  of  milking.  "  Can  you  milk  ? '  she 
asked. 

" '  Course  I  can,  though  I  haven't  had 
much  chance,  o'  late  years,  to  practise," 
said  Dave. 

"  Can  you  milk  without  hurting  the 
cow  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  And  can  you 
draw  off  the  strippings  clean?  "  she  per- 
sisted, manifestly  sceptical. 

"  Try  me,"  said  Dave. 

"  Let  him  take  old  Whitey,  Miranda. 


Mil  king-time  179 


He'll  get  through  with  her,  maybe,  while 
we're  milking  the  others,"  suggested 
Kirstie. 

"  Oh,  well,  any  one  could  milk  Whitey," 
assented  Miranda ;  and  Dave,  on  his 
mettle,  vowed  within  himself  that  he'd 
have  old  Whitey  milked,  and  milked  dry, 
and  milked  to  her  satisfaction,  before 
either  Kirstie  or  Miranda  was  through 
with  her  first  milker.  He  stroked  the 
cow  on  the  flank,  and  scratched  her  belly 
gently,  and  established  friendly  relations 
with  her  before  starting ;  and  the  elastic 
firmness  of  his  strong  hands  chanced  to 
suit  Whitey's  large  teats.  The  animal 
eyed  him  with  favour  and  gave  down  her 
milk  affluently.  As  the  full  streams 
sounded  more  and  more  liquidly  in  his 
pail,  Dave  knew  that  he  had  the  game  in 
his  hands,  and  took  time  to  glance  at  his 
rivals.  To  his  astonishment  there  was 
Kroof  standing  up  on  her  haunches  close 
beside  Miranda,  her  narrow  red  tongue 
lolling  from  her  lazily  open  jaws,  while  she 
watched  the  milky  fountains  with  interest. 

While  Kirstie's  scarlet  kerchiefed  head 


180    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

was  still  pressed  upon  her  milker's  flank, 
and  while  Miranda  was  just  beginning  to 
draw  off  the  rich  "  strippings  "  into  a  tin 
cup,  Dave  completed  his  task.  His  pail 
—  he  had  milked  the  strippings  in  along 
with  the  rest  —  was  foaming  creamily  to 
the  brim.  He  arose  and  vaunted  him- 
self. "  Some  day,  when  I've  got  lots  of 
time,"  he  drawled,  "  I'll  l'arn  you  two  how 
to  milk." 

"You  needn't  think  you're  done  al- 
ready," retorted  Miranda,  without  look- 
ing up.  "  I'll  get  a  quart  more  out  of 
old  Whitey,  soon  as  I'm  through  here." 

But  Kirstie  came  over  and  looked  at 
the  pail.  "  No,  you  won't,  Miranda,  not 
this  time,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Dave's  beaten 
us,  sure.  Old  Whitey  never  gave  us  a 
fuller  pail  in  her  life.  Dave,  you  can 
milk.  You  go  and  milk  Michael  over 
there,  the  black-an'-white  one,  for  me. 
I'll  leave  you  and  Miranda,  if  you  won't 
fall  out,  to  finish  up  here,  while  I  go  and 
get  an  extra  good  supper  for  you,  so's 
you'll  come  again  soon.  I  know  you 
men  keep  your  hearts  in  your  stomachs, 


Milking-time  i8z 


just  where  we  women  know  how  to  reach 
them  easy.  Where'd  we  have  been  if  the 
Lord  hadn't  made  us  cooks  !  " 

Such  unwonted  pleasantry  on  the  part 
of  her  sombre  mother  proved  to  Miranda 
that  Dave  was  much  in  her  graces,  and 
she  felt  moved  to  a  greater  austerity  in 
order  that  she  might  keep  the  balance 
true.  Throughout  the  rest  of  the  milk- 
ing, she  answered  all  Dave's  attempts  at 
conversation  with  briefest  yes  or  no,  and 
presently  reduced  him  to  a  discouraged 
silence.  During  supper,  —  which  consisted 
of  fresh  trout  fried  in  corn  meal,  and 
golden  hot  johnny-cake  with  red  molasses, 
and  eggs  fried  with  tomatoes,  and  sweet 
curds  with  clotted  cream,  all  in  a  perfec- 
tion to  justify  Kirstie's  promise,  —  Mi- 
randa relented  a  little,  and  talked  freely. 
But  Dave  had  been  too  much  subdued 
to  readily  regain  his  cheer.  It  was  his 
tongue  now  that  knew  but  yes  and  no. 
Confronted  by  this  result  of  her  unkind- 
ness,  Miranda's  sympathetic  heart  soft- 
ened. Turning  in  her  seat  to  slip  a  piece 
of  johnny-cake,    drenched   in    molasses, 


1 82    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

into  the  expectant  mouth  of  Kroof  who 
sat  up  beside  her,  she  spoke  to  Dave  in  a 
tone  whose  sweetness  thrilled  him  to  the 
finger-tips.  The  instinct  of  coquetry, 
native  and  not  unknown  to  the  furtive 
folk  themselves,  was  beginning  to  stir 
within    Miranda's   untaught  heart. 

"  I'm  going  down  to  the  lake  to-night, 
Dave,"  she  said,  "  to  set  a  night  line  and 
see  if  I  can  catch  a  togue.1  There's  a  full 
moon,  and  the  lake'll  be  worth  looking  at. 
Won't  you  come  along  with  us  ? ' 

"Won't  I,  Miranda?  Couldn't  think 
of  nothin'  I'd  like  better  !  "  was  the  eager 
response. 

"  We'll  start  soon  as  ever  we  get  the 
dishes  washed  up,"  explained  the  girl. 
"And  you  can  help  us  at  that  —  what 
say,  mother  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Dave  can  help  us,"  answered 
Kirstie,  "  if  you  have  the  nerve  to  set  the 
likes  of  him  at  woman's  work.  But  I 
reckon  I  won't  go  with  you  to-night  to 
the  lake.  Kroof  and  Dave'll  be  enough 
to  look  after  you." 

1  A  ipecies  of  large,  grey  lake  trout. 


Milking-time  183 

"  I'll  look  after  Dave,  more  like,"  ex- 
claimed Miranda,  scornfully,  remembering 
both  Wapiti  and  the  panther.  "  But  what's 
the  matter,  mother  ?  Do  come.  It  won't 
be  the  same  without  you." 

"  Seems  to  me  I'm  tired  to-night,  kind 
of,  and  I  just  want  to  stay  at  home  by  the 
fire  and  think." 

Miranda  sprang  up,  with  concern  in 
her  face,  and  ran  round  to  her  mother's 
seat. 

"  Tired,  mother  !  "  she  cried,  scanning 
her  features  anxiously.  "  Who  ever  heard 
of  people  like  you  and  me,  who  are  strong, 
and  live  right,  being  tired?  I'm  afraid 
you're  not  well,  mother ;  I  won't  go  one 
step  !  " 

"Yes,  you  will,  dearie,"  answered  her 
mother,  and  never  yet  had  Miranda  re- 
belled against  that  firm  note  in  Kirstie's 
voice.  "  I  really  want  to  be  alone  to-night 
a  bit,  and  think.  Dave's  visit  has  stirred 
up  a  lot  of  old  thoughts,  and  I  want  to 
take  a  look  at  them.  I  reckoned  they 
were  dead  and  buried  years  ago  ! ' 

Are  you  sure  you're  not  sick,  mother?" 


u 


184    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

went  on  Miranda,  hesitatingly  returning  to 
her  seat. 

"  No,  child,  I'm  not  sick.  But  I  have 
felt  tired  off  an'  on  the  last  few  days  when 
there  was  no  call  to.  I  do  begin  to  feel 
that  this  big  solitude  of  the  woods  is  wear- 
ing on  me,  someway.  I've  stood  up  under 
it  all  these  years,  Dave,  and  it's  given  me 
peace  and  strength  when  I  needed  it  bad 
enough,  God  knows.  But  someway  I 
reckon  it's  too  big  for  me,  and  will  crush 
me  in  the  long  run.  I  love  the  clearing, 
but  I  don't  just  want  to  end  my  days 
here." 

"  Mother,"  cried  Miranda,  springing  up 
again,  "  I  never  heard  you  talk  so  before 
in  my  life  !  Leave  the  clearing  !  Leave 
the  woods  !  I  couldri 7  live,  I  just  couldn't, 
anywheres  else  at  all  !  " 

"There's  other  places,  Miranda,"  mur- 
mured Dave.  But  Kirstie  continued  the 
argument. 

"  It's  a  sight  different  with  you,  child," 
she  said  thoughtfully.  "  You've  grown  up 
here.  The  woods  and  the  sky  have  made 
you.    They're  in  your  blood.    You  live  and 


Mil  king-time  185 


breathe  them.  You  were  a  queer  baby  — 
more  a  fairy  or  a  wild  thing  than  a  human 
youngster  —  before  ever  you  came  to  the 
clearing ;  and  all  the  wild  things  seem  to 
think  you're  one  of  themselves ;  and  you 
see  what  other  folks  can't  see — what  the 
folks  of  the  woods  themselves  can't  see. 
Oh,  yes !  it's  a  sight  different  with  you,  Mi- 
randa. Your  father  used  to  watch  you  and 
say  you'd  grow  up  to  be  a  faun  woman 
or  wood  goddess,  or  else  the  fairies  would 
carry  you  off.  This  place  is  all  right  for  you. 
And  I  used  to  think  I  was  that  big  and 
strong  of  spirit  that  I  could  stand  up  to 
it  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  I  begin  to 
think  it's  too  big  for  me.  I  don't  want 
to  die  here,  Miranda !  " 

Miranda  stared  at  her,  greatly  troubled. 

"You  won't  die  till  I'm  old  enough  to 
die  too,  mother,"  she  cried,  "  for  I  just 
couldn't  live  without  you  one  day.  But," 
she  added  passionately, "  I  know  I  should 
die,  quick,  right  off,  if  I  had  to  go  away 
from  the  clearing  !      I  know  I  would  ! ' 

She  spoke  with  the  fiercer  positiveness, 
because,  just  as   she  was   speaking,  there 


1 86    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


came  over  her  a  doubt  of  her  own  words. 
In  a  flash  she  saw  herself  growing  old  here 
in  the  vast  solitude,  she  and  Kirstie  to- 
gether, and  no  one  else  anywhere  to  be 
seen.  The  figure  so  cruelly  conspicuous 
in  its  absence  bore  a  strange,  dim  likeness 
to  Young  Dave.  She  did  not  ask  herself 
if  it  were  possible  that  she  could  one  day 
wish  to  desert  the  clearing,  and  the  still- 
nesses, and  all  the  folk  of  the  ancient  wood, 
but  somewhere  at  the  back  of  her  heart 
she  felt  that  it  might  even  be  so,  and  her 
heart  contracted  poignantly.  She  ran  and 
flung  both  arms  about  Kroof 's  neck,  and 
wiped  a  stealthy  tear  on  the  shaggy  coat. 

Dave,  with  a  quickening  intuition  born 
of  his  dread  lest  the  trip  to  the  lake  should 
fall  through,  saw  that  the  conversation  was 
treading  dangerous  ground.  He  dis- 
creetly changed  the  subject  to  johnny- 
cake. 


Chapter  XIV 

Moonlight  and  Moose-call 

WHEN  Miranda  was  ready  to  start, 
the  moon  was  up,  low  and  large, 
shining  broadly  into  the  cabin  window. 
Miranda  brought  forward  a  small,  tin-cov- 
ered kettle,  containing  some  little  fish  for 
bait. 

"  Where's  your  line  an'  hooks  ?  "  asked 
Dave. 

"  I  keep  them  in  a  hollow  tree  by  the 
lake,"  said  Miranda.  "  But  don't  you 
go  to  take  that  thing  along,  or  you  don't 
go  with  me!"  she  added  sharply,  as  the 
young  man  picked  up  his  rifle. 

He  set  it  down  again  with  alacrity. 

"  But  at  night,  Mirandy  ! '  he  pro- 
tested.    "  Air  ye  sure  it's  safe  ? ' 

"  Don't  come  if  you're  afraid  !  "  she 
answered  witheringly,  stepping  out  into 
the  white  light  and  the  coldly  pungent  air. 

187 


1 88    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Dave  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  ig- 
noring a  taunt  which  could  touch  him 
least  among  men.  At  Miranda's  other 
side  was  the  great  lumbering  form  of 
Kroof,  with  the  girl's  hand  resting  lov- 
ingly on  her  neck. 

"We'll  not  be  long,  mother,"  called 
Miranda  to  Kirstie,  in  the  doorway. 

But  before  they  had  gone  twenty  paces, 
Kroof  stopped  short,  and  sat  down  to 
deliberate.  She  regarded  it  as  her  own 
peculiar  office  to  protect  Miranda  (who 
needed  no  protection)  on  these  nocturnal 
expeditions  to  which  the  girl  was  given 
in  some  moods.  Was  the  obnoxious 
stranger  to  usurp  her  office  and  her  privi- 
lege ?  Well,  she  would  not  share  with 
him.  She  would  stay  where  she  was 
needed. 

"  Come  along,  Kroof! "  urged  Mi- 
randa, with  a  little  tug  at  her  fur.  But 
the  jealous  bear  was  obstinate.  She 
wheeled  and    made    for    the    cabin    door. 

Miranda  was  irritated. 

"  Let  her  stay,  then  ! '  she  exclaimed, 
setting  her  face  to  the  forest,  and  smiling 


Moonlight  and  Moose-call       189 

in  more  gracious  fashion  upon  Young 
Dave.  Kroof  was  certainly  very  pro- 
voking. 

"That's  all  right!"  said  Dave,  more 
pleased  than  he  dare  show.  "  She'll  be 
company  for  yer  mother  till  we  git 
back." 

"  Kroof  seems  to  think  she  owns  me  !  " 
mused  Miranda.  "  I  love  her  better  than 
any  one  else  in  the  world  except  mother ; 
but  I  mustn't  spoil  her  when  she  gets 
cross  about  nothing.  She  oughtn't  to  be 
so  jealous  when  I'm  nice  to  you,  Dave  ! 
I'm  very  angry  at  her  for  being  so  silly. 
She  ought  to  know  you're  nothing  to  me 
alongside   of   her ;    now,  oughtn't   she  ?  ' 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Dave,  with 
such  cheerfulness  as  he  could  assume. 
Then  he  set  himself  craftily  to  win  Mi- 
randa's approval  by  a  minute  account  of 
the  characteristics  —  mental,  moral,  and 
physical  —  of  a  tame  bear  named  Pete, 
belonging  to  one  of  the  lumbermen  at 
the  Settlement.  The  subject  was  saga- 
ciously chosen,  and  had  the  effect  of 
making  Miranda  feel  measurably  less  re- 


190    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


mete  from  the  world  of  men.  It  sug- 
gested to  her  a  kind  of  possible  under- 
standing between  the  world  of  men  and 
the  world  of  the  ancient  wood. 

As  they  left  the  moonlit  open,  the  long 
white  fingers  of  the  phantom  light  reached 
after  them,  down  the  dissolving  arches. 
Then  the  last  groping  ray  was  left  behind, 
and  they  walked  in  the  soft  dark.  Dave 
found  it  an  exquisite  but  imperative  ne- 
cessity to  keep  close  at  Miranda's  elbow, 
touching  her  very  skirt  indeed,  for  even 
his  trained  woodland  eyes  could  at  first 
distinguish  nothing.  Miranda,  however, 
with  her  miraculous  vision,  moved  swiftly, 
unhesitatingly,  as  if  in  broad  day  and  a 
plain  way. 

Soon,  however,  Dave's  eyes  adapted 
themselves,  and  he  could  discern  vague 
differences,  denser  masses,  semi-translu- 
cencies  in  the  enfolding  depth  of  black- 
ness. For  there  was  a  light,  of  a  kind, 
carried  down  by  countless  reflections  and 
refractions  from  the  lit,  wet  surfaces  of  the 
topmost  leaves.  Moreover,  clean-blooded 
and  fine-nerved  as  he  was  from  his  years 


Moonlight  and   Moose-call       191 

of  living   under  nature's  ceaseless  purga- 
tion, his  other  senses  came  to  the  aid  of 
his    baffled    sight.     He    seemed    to    feel, 
rather  than  see,  the  massive  bulk,  of  the 
pine    and    birch    trunks    as    his    face    ap- 
proached   them    to    the    nearness    of    an 
arm's    length.      He    felt,    too,    an    added 
hardness  and  a  swelling  under  the  moss, 
wherever  the  network  of  roots  came  close 
to   the   parent    trunk.     His   nostrils    dis- 
cerned the  pine,  the  spruce,  the  hemlock, 
the   balsam   poplar,  the   aromatic   moose- 
wood,  as  he  passed  them  ;  and   long  be- 
fore he  came  to  it  he  knew  the  tamarack 
swamp    was    near.     Only   his    ears    could 
not  aid  him.     Except  for  Miranda's  foot- 
steps, feather-soft  upon  the  moss,  and  his 
own   heavier  but  skilfully  muffled    tread, 
there  was  no  sound  in  the  forest  but  an 
indeterminate    whisper,    so    thin     that     it 
might  have  been  the  speech  of  the  leaves 
conferring,  or   the  sap  climbing   through 
the    smaller    branches.     Neither    he    nor 
Miranda  uttered  a  word.     The  stillness 
was  such  that  a  voice  would   have  pro- 
faned it.     Finding  it  difficult  to  keep  up 


192    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

without  stumbling  and  making  a  rough 
noise,  Dave  frankly  resigned  himself  to 
the  girl's  superior  craft. 

"  You've  got  to  be  eyes  fer  me  here, 
you  wonderful  Mirandy,  er  I  can't  keep 
up  with  ye  ! '  he  whispered  at  her  ear. 
The  light  warmth  of  his  breath  upon  her 
neck  made  her  tingle  in  a  way  that  bewil- 
dered her ;  but  she  found  it  pleasant. 
When  he  took  hold  of  her  arm,  very 
gently,  to  steady  himself,  rather  to  his 
surprise  he  was  permitted.  He  was  wise 
enough,  however,  not  to  attach  too  much 
importance  to  the  favour.  He  pondered 
the  fact  that  to  Miranda,  who  was  not  a 
Settlement  girl,  it  meant  altogether  nothing. 

Presently,  just  ahead  of  them,  they  saw 
a  pair  of  palely-glowing  eyes,  about  two  feet 
from  the  ground.  Miranda  squeezed  the 
hand  inside  her  arm,  as  a  sign  that  Dave 
was  not  to  regret  his  rifle.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  was  not  disposed  to  regret  any- 
thing at  that  moment. 

"  Lou-cerfie  !  "  he  whispered  at  her  ear, 
meaning  the  lynx,  or  loup-cervier  of  the 
camps. 


Moonlight  and  Moose-call       193 

"  No,  panther  !  "  murmured  Miranda, 
indifferently,  going  straight  forward.  At 
this  startling  word,  Dave  could  not,  under 
the  circumstances,  refrain  from  a  certain 
misgiving.  A  panther  is  not  good  to 
meet  in  the  dark.  But  the  palely-glow- 
ing eyes  sank  mysteriously  toward  the 
ground  and  retreated  as  Miranda  ad- 
vanced ;  and  in  a  few  seconds  they  went 
floating  off  to  one  side  and  disappeared. 

"  How  on  earth  do  ye  do  it,  Mirandy  ? " 
whispered  Dave,  rather  awestruck. 

"  They  know  me,"  replied  the  girl ; 
which  seemed  to  her,  but  not  to  Dave,  an 
all-sufficient  answer. 

There  was  no  more  said.  The  magic 
of  the  dark  held  them  both  breathless. 
They  were  strung  to  a  strange,  electric 
pitch  of  sympathy  and  expectation. 
Dave's  fingers,  where  they  rested  on  the 
girl's  arm,  tingled  curiously,  deliciously. 
Once,  close  beside  them,  there  was  a  sharp 
rattle  of  claws  going  up  the  bark  of  a  fir 
tree,  and  then  two  little  points  of  light, 
close  together,  gleamed  down  upon  them 
from  overhead.      Both  Miranda  and  Dave 


194    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

knew  it  was  a  raccoon,  and  said  nothing. 
Farther  on  they  came  suddenly  upon  a 
spectrally  luminous  figure  just  in  their 
path.  It  was  nearly  the  height  of  a  man. 
The  ghostly  light  waxed  and  waned  before 
their  eyes.  A  timorous  imagination 
might  have  been  pardoned  for  calling  it 
a  spirit  sent  to  warn  them  back  from  their 
venture.  Eut  they  knew  it  was  only  a 
rotting  birch  stump  turned  phosphores- 
cent. As  they  passed,  Dave  broke  off  a 
piece  and  crumbled  it,  and  for  some 
minutes  the  bluish  light  clung  to  his 
fingers,  like  a  perfume. 

At  last  they  heard  an  owl  hoot  solemnly 
in  the  distance.  "  Tw1  oh-hoo-bco-boo-ooo" 
it  went,  a  cold  and  melancholv  sound. 

"  We're  near  the  lake,"  whispered 
Miranda.  "  I  know  Wah-hoo  ;  he  lives 
in  an  old  tree  close  to  the  water.  We're 
almost  there."  Then  glimpses  of  light 
came,  broken  and  thin,  from  the  far-off 
moon-silvered  surface.  Then  a  breath  of 
chill,  though  there  was  no  wind.  And 
then  they  came  out  upon  the  open  shore. 

Miranda,  with    a  decisive   gesture,  re- 


Moonlight  and  Moose-call       195 

moved  her  arm  from  Dave's  grasp,  and 
side  by  side  the  two  followed  the  Jong 
sweep  of  sandy  beach  curving  off  to  the 
right. 

"  See  that  point  yonder,"  said  Miranda, 
"  with  the  lop-sided  tree  standing  alone 
on  it  ?  I've  got  my  line  and  hooks  hidden 
in  that  tree." 

"How  do  ye  set  a  night  line  without  a 
boat  ?  "  queried  Dave. 

"  Got  one,  of  course  !  "  answered  the 
girl.  "  Your  father  made  me  a  dugout, 
last  summer  a  year  ago,  and  I  keep  it 
drawn  up  behind  the  point." 

The  moon  was  high  now,  sailing  in  icy 
splendour  of  solitude  over  the  immensity 
of  the  ancient  wood.  The  lake  was  a 
windless  mirror.  The  beach  was  very 
smooth  and  white,  etched  along  its  land- 
ward edges  with  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 
At  one  spot  a  cluster  of  three  willows 
grew  very  near  the  water's  brink,  spread- 
ing a  transparent  and  mysterious  shadow. 
Just  as  Dave  and  Miranda  came  to  this 
little  oasis  in  the  shining  sand,  across  the 
water  came  the  long,  sonorous  call  of   a 


196    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

bull  moose.  It  was  a  deep  note,  melodi- 
ous and  far  carrying,  and  seemed  in  some 
way  the  very  spoken  thought  of  the  vast- 
ness. 

"  That's  what  I  call  music ! "  said  Dave. 

But  before  Miranda  could  respond,  a 
thunderous  bellow  roared  in  answer  from 
the  blackness  of  the  woods  close  by  ;  there 
was  a  heavy  crashing  in  the  underbrush, 
and  the  towering  front  of  another  bull 
appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  sands,  look- 
ing for  his  challenger.  Catching  sight  of 
Dave  and  Miranda,  he  charged  down  upon 
them  at  once. 

"  Get  up  a  tree,  quick  !  "  cried  Dave, 
slipping  his  long  knife  from  its  sheath  and 
stepping  in  front  of  the  girl. 

"  Don't  you  meddle  and  there'll  be  no 
trouble  !  "  said  Miranda,  sharply.  "  You 
stand  behind  that  tree  !  "  and  seizing  him 
by  the  arm  she  attempted  to  push  him 
out  of  sight.  But  for  a  second  he  stupidly 
resisted. 

"  Fool ! "  she  flamed  out  at  him.  "  What 
do  you  suppose  I've  done  all  these  years 
without  you?" 


Moonlight  and   Moose-call       197 

The  anger  in  her  eyes  pierced  his  senses 
and  brought  wisdom.      He  realized  that 
somehow  she  was  master  of  the  situation, 
and  he  reluctantly  stepped  behind  the  big 
willow  trunk.     It  was  just  in  the  nick  of 
time,  for  the   furious   animal   was  almost 
upon  them.     At  this  moment  a  breath  of 
air  from  the  water  carried  Miranda's  scent 
to   the   beast's    nostrils,   and    he    checked 
himself  in  doubt.     At  once  Miranda  gave 
a  soft  whistle   and   stepped   out  into  the 
clear  flood  of  moonlight.     The  moose  rec- 
ognized her,  stood  still,  raised  his  gigantic 
antlers  to  their  full  height,  and  stretched 
toward  her  his  long,  flexible  snout,  sniff- 
ing  amicably.      Then,   step   by   step,  he 
approached,    while    she    waited    with    her 
small  hand  held  out  to  him,  palm  upward; 
and  Dave  looked  on  in  wonder  from  be- 
hind  his   tree,   still   doubtful,   his  fingers 
gripping  his  knife-hilt. 

At  this  moment  the  first  call  sounded 
again  across  the  lake.  The  moose  forgot 
Miranda.  He  wheeled  nimbly,  lowered 
his  head  toward  the  great  challenge,  bel- 
lowed his  answer,  and  charged  along  the 


198    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


shore  to  mortal  combat.  As  he  disappeared 
around  a  jutting  spur  of  pines,  a  tall  cow 
moose  emerged  from  the  shades  and  trotted 
after  him. 

Miranda  turned  to  Dave  with  an  air  of 
triumph,  her  anger  forgotten. 

"  I  swan,  Mirandy  !  "  exclaimed  the 
young  hunter,  "  the  girl  as  can  manage 
a  bull  moose  in  callin'  season  is  the  Queen 
of  the  Forest,  sure.  I  take  off  my  cap 
to  yer  majesty  !  " 

"  Put  it  on  again,  Dave,"  said  she,  not 
half  displeased,  "  and  we'll  go  set  the 
night  lines." 

Behind  the  point,  hidden  in  a  thicket 
of  mixed  huckleberry  and  ironwood,  they 
found  the  wooden  canoe,  or  dugout,  in 
good  condition.  Dave  ran  it  down  into 
the  water,  and  Miranda  tossed  in  a  roll  of 
stout  cod-line,  with  four  large  hooks  de- 
pending from  it,  at  four-foot  intervals,  by 
drop  strings  a  foot  and  a  half  in  length. 
The  hooks  she  proceeded  to  bait  from  the 
tin  kettle. 

"  Why  don't  ye  have  more  hooks  on 
sech  a  len'th  of  line  ?  "  inquired  Dave. 


Moonlight  and  Moose-call       199 

"  Don't  want  to  catch  more  togue  than 
we  can  eat,"  explained  Miranda.  "  It's 
no  fun  catching  them  this  way,  and  they're 
not  much  good  salted." 

There  was  but  one  paddle,  and  this 
Dave  captured.  "You  sit  in  the  bow, 
Mirandy,  an'  see  to  the  lines,  an'  I'll 
paddle  ye  out,"  said  he. 

But  Miranda  would  have  none  of  it. 
"Look  here,  Dave,"  she  exclaimed,  "I'm 
doing  this,  and  you're  just  a  visitor.  I 
declare,  I'm  almost  sorry  I  brought  you 
along.  You  just  sit  where  you're  put,  and 
do  as  I  tell  you,  or  you  won't  come  with 
me  again." 

The  young  man  squatted  himself  meekly 
on  his  knees,  a  little  forward  of  amidship, 
but  not  far  enough  for  his  superior  weight 
to  put  the  canoe  down  by  the  bow.  Then 
Miranda  stepped  in  delicately,  seated  her- 
self on  a  thwart  at  the  stern,  and  dipped 
her  paddle  with  precise  and  masterful 
stroke.  The  canoe  shot  noiselessly  out 
of  the  shadow  and  into  the  unrippled 
sheen.  Just  off  the  point,  about  twenty 
yards  from  shore,  lay  a  light  wooden  float 


200    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

at  anchor.  Beside  this  Miranda  brought 
her  canoe  to  a  standstill,  backing  water 
silently  with  firm  flexures  of  her  wrist. 
To  a  rusty  staple  in  the  float  she  fastened 
one  end  of  the  line. 

"  Deep  water  off  this  here  point,  I 
reckon/'  commented   Dave. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Miranda.  "  The 
togue  only  lie  in  deep  water." 

Dave  was  permitted  to  make  comments, 
but  to  take  no  more  active  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings. As  he  was  a  man  of  deeds  and 
dreams  rather  than  of  speech,  this  was 
not  the  role  he  coveted,  and  he  held  his 
tongue ;  while  Miranda,  deftly  paying  out 
the  line  with  one  hand,  with  the  other 
cleverly  wielded  the  paddle  so  that  the 
canoe  slipped  toward  shore.  She  was  too 
much  absorbed  in  the  operation  to  vouch- 
safe any  explanation  to  Dave,  but  he  saw 
that  she  intended  making  fast  the  other 
end  of  the  line  to  a  stake  which  jutted  up 
close  to  the  water's  edge. 

Miranda  now  slipped  the  line  under 
her  foot  to  hold  it,  and,  taking  both 
hands  to  her  paddle,  was  about  to  make 


Moonlight  and   Moose-call       201 

a  landing,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  vio- 
lent tug  at  one  of  the  hooks.  The  line 
was  torn  from  under  her  light  foot,  and 
at  once  dragged  overboard.  Dave  saw 
what  had  happened ;  but  he  was  wise 
enough  not  to  say,  even  by  look  or  tone, 
"  I  told  you  so  ! '  Instead,  he  turned  and 
pointed  to  the  float,  which  was  now  acting 
very  erratically,  darting  from  side  to  side, 
and  at  times  plunging  quite  under  water. 
The  glassy  mirror  of  the  lake  was  shat- 
tered to  bits. 

"  You've  got  him  a' ready,  Mirandy," 
he  cried  in  triumph ;  and  his  palpable 
elation  quite  covered  Miranda's  chagrin. 
Two  or  three  strong  strokes  of  her  paddle 
brought  the  canoe  back  to  the  float,  and 
Dave  had  his  reward. 

"  Catch  hold  of  the  float,  Dave,"  she 
commanded,  "  and  pull  him  aboard,  while 
I  hold  the  canoe." 

With  a  great  splashing  and  turmoil  he 
hauled  up  a  large  togue,  of  twelve  pounds 
or  thereabouts,  and  landed  it  flopping  in 
the  bottom  of  the  dugout.  A  stroke  in 
the  back  of  the  neck  from  Miranda's  knife. 


202    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

sharp  but  humane,  put  a  term  to  its  strug- 
gles. 

While  Dave  gazed  admiringly  at  the 
glittering  spoil,  Miranda  began  untying 
the  line  from  the  float. 

"  What  air  ye  doin'   now,  Mirandy  ? ' 
he  inquired,  as  she  proceeded  to  strip  the 
bait  from  the  remaining  hooks,  and  throw 
the  pieces  overboard. 

"  We  won't  want  any  more  togue  for 
a  week,"  she  explained.  (i  This  is  such 
a  fine,  big  one."  And  she  headed  the 
canoe  for  the  landing-place,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  point. 


Chapter  XV 
A  Venison  Steak 

THROUGHOUT  the  succeeding 
winter  Dave  managed  to  visit  the 
clearing  two  or  three  times  in  the  course 
of  each  month,  but  he  could  not  see  that 
he  made  any  progress  in  Miranda's  favour. 
As  at  first,  she  was  sometimes  friendly, 
sometimes  caustically  indifferent.  Only 
once  did  he  perceive  in  her  the  smallest 
hint  of  gratification  at  his  coming.  That 
was  the  time  when  he  came  on  his  snow- 
shoes  through  the  forest  by  moonlight, 
the  snow  giving  a  diffused  glimmer  that 
showed  him  the  trail  even  through  the 
densest  thickets.  Arriving  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  surprised  her  at  the  door  of  the 
cow  stable^  where  she  had  been  foddering 
the  cattle.  Her  face  flushed  at  the  sight 
of  him  ;  and  a  look  came  into  her  wide, 
dark  eyes  which  even  his  modesty  could 

903 


204    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

not  quite  misunderstand.  But  his  delight 
quickly  crumbled.  Miranda  was  loftily 
indifferent  to  him  during  all  that  visit,  so 
much  so  that  after  he  had  gone  Kirstie 
reproached  her  with  incivility. 

"I  can't  help  it,  mother!"  she  ex- 
plained. "  I  don't  want  to  hate  him,  but 
what  better  is  he  than  a  butcher  ?  His 
bread  is  stained  with  blood.  Pah !  I 
sometimes  think  I  smell  blood,  the  blood 
of  the  kind  wood  creatures,  when  he's 
around." 

"  But  you  don't  want  him  not  to  come, 
girl,  surely,"  protested  her  mother. 

"Well,  you  know,  it's  a  pleasure  to 
you  to  have  him  come  once  in  a  while," 
said  the  girl,  enigmatically. 

Dave  continued  his  visits,  biding  his 
time.  He  lost  no  chance  of  familiarizing 
Miranda's  imagination  with  the  needs  of 
man  as  he  imagined  them,  and  with  a 
rational  conception  of  life  as  he  conceived 
it.  This  he  did  not  directly,  but  through 
the  medium  of  conversation  with  Kirstie, 
to  whom  his  words  were  sweetness.  He 
was  determined  to  break  down  Miranda's 


A  Venison  Steak  205 

prejudice  against  his  calling,  which  to  him 
was  the  only  one  worth  a  man's  while,  — 
wholesome,  sane,  full  of  adventure,  full  of 
romance.  He  was  determined,  also,  to 
overcome  her  deep  aversion  to  flesh  food. 
He  felt  that  not  till  these  two  points  were 
gained  would  Miranda  become  sufficiently 
human  to  understand  human  love  or  any 
truly  human  emotions.  In  this  belief  he 
strictly  withheld  his  wooing,  and  waited  till 
the  barriers  that  opposed  it  should  be  un- 
dermined by  his  systematic  attacks.  He 
was  too  little  learned  in  woman  to  realize 
that  with  Miranda  his  best  wooing  was 
the  absence  of  all  wooing ;  and  so  he 
builded  better  than  he  knew. 

During  the  cold  months  he  was  glad  to 
be  relieved  of  the  presence  of  Kroof,  who 
had  proved,  in  her  taciturn  way,  quite 
irreconcilable.  He  had  tried  in  vain  to 
purchase  her  favour  with  honey,  good 
hive  bees'  honev  in  the  comb,  carried  all 
the  way  from  the  Settlement.  She  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him  at  any  price ; 
and  he  felt  that  this  discredited  him  in 
Miranda's  eyes.     He   hoped  that   Kroof 


206    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

would   sleep   late   that  spring  in    her   lair 
under  the  pine  root. 

But  while  Dave  was  labouring  so  assid- 
uously, and,  as  he  fancied,  so  subtly,  to 
mould  and  fashion  Miranda,  she  all  un- 
awares was  moulding  him.  Unconsciously 
his  rifle  and  his  traps  were  losing  zest  for 
him  ;  and  the  utter  solitude  of  his  camp 
beyond  the  Quah-Davic  began  to  have 
manifest  disadvantages.  Once  he  hesi- 
tated so  long  over  a  good  shot  at  a  lynx, 
just  because  the  creature  looked  unsus- 
pecting, that  in  the  end  he  was  too  late, 
and  his  store  of  pelts  was  the  poorer  by 
one  good  skin.  Shooting  a  young  cow 
moose  in  the  deep  snow,  moreover,  he 
felt  an  unwonted  qualm  when  the  gasping 
and  bleeding  beast  turned  upon  him  a  look 
of  anguished  reproach.  His  hand  was 
not  quite  so  steady  as  usual  when  he  gave 
her  the  knife  in  the  throat.  This  was 
a  weakness  which  he  did  not  let  himself 
examine  too  closely.  He  knew  the  flesh 
of  the  young  cow  was  tender  and  good, 
and  after  freezing  it  he  hung  it  up  in  his 
cold    cellar.     Though    he  would   not  for 


A  Venison  Steak  207 


an  instant  have  acknowledged  it,  even  to 
himseu,  he  was  glad  that  bears  were  not 
his  business  during  the  winter,  for  he 
would  almost  certainly  have  felt  a  sense 
of  guilt,  of  wrong  to  Miranda,  in  shooting 
them,  For  all  this  undercurrent  of  qualm 
in  the  hidden  depths  of  his  heart,  how- 
ever, his  hunting  was  never  more  prosper- 
ous than  during  the  January  and  February 
of  that  winter ;  and  fox,  lynx,  wolverine, 
seemed  not  only  to  run  upon  his  gun,  but 
to  seek  his  traps  as  a  haven.  He  killed 
with  an  emphasis,  as  if  to  rebuke  the  wak- 
ing germ  of  softness  in  his  soul.  But 
he  had  little  of  the  old  satisfaction,  as  he 
saw  his  peltries  accumulate.  His  craft 
was  now  become  a  business,  a  mere  rou- 
tine necessity.  For  pleasure,  he  chose  to 
watch  Miranda  as  her  feathered  pen- 
sioners — -  snowbirds,  wrens,  rose  gros- 
beaks, and  a  glossy  crow  or  two  — 
gathered  about  her  of  a  morning  for  their 
meal  of  grain  and  crumbs.  They  alighted 
on  her  hair,  her  shoulders,  her  arms ;  and 
the  round-headed,  childlike  grosbeaks 
would  peck  bread  from  her  red  lips ;  and 


2o8    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

a  crow,  every  now  and  then,  would  sidle 
in  briskly  and  give  a  mischievouc  tug  at 
the  string  of  her  moccasin.  To  the  girl, 
his  heart  needed  no  warming, —  it  burned 
by  now  with  a  fire  which  all  his  back- 
wood's  stoicism  could  but  ill  disguise, — 
but  to  the  birds,  and  through  them  to  all 
the  furry  folk  of  the  wood,  his  heart 
warmed  as  he  regarded  the  beautiful  sight. 
He  noted  that  the  birds  were  quite  un- 
afraid of  Kirstie,  who  also  fed  them  ;  but 
he  saw  that  toward  Miranda  they  showed 
an  active,  even  aggressive  ardour,  striving 
jealously  for  the  touch  of  her  hand  or  foot 
or  skirt  when  no  tit-bits  whatever  were 
in  question.  And  another  sight  there  was, 
toward  shut  of  winter's  evening,  that 
moved  him  strangely,  The  wild,  white 
hares  (he  and  Kirstie  and  Miranda  called 
them  rabbits)  would  come  leaping  over 
the  snow  to  the  cabin  door  to  be  fed,  with 
never  cat  or  weasel  on  their  trail.  They 
would  press  around  the  girl,  nibbling 
eagerly  at  her  dole  of  clover,  hay,  and 
carrots;  some  crouching  about  her  feet, 
some  erect  and   striking  at    her  petticoat 


A   Venison   Steak 


209 


with  their  nervous  fore  paws,  ail  twin- 
kling-eared, and  all  implicitly  trustful  of 
this  kind   Miranda  of  the  clover. 

Toward  spring  Miranda  began  to  be 
troubled  about  Kirstie's  health.  She  saw 
that  the  firm  lines  of  her  mother's  face 
were  growing  unwontedly  sharp,  the  bones 
of  her  cheek  and  jaw  strangely  conspicu- 
ous. Then  her  solicitous  scrutiny  took 
note  of  a  pallor  under  the  skin,  a  greyish 
whiteness  at  the  corners  of  her  eyes,  a  lack 
of  vividness  in  the  usually  brilliant  scarlet 
of  the  lips ;  for  up  to  now  Kirstie  haa 
retained  all  the  vital  colouring  and  tone 
of  youth.  Then,  too,  there  was  a  listless- 
ness,  a  desire  to  rest  and  take  breath  after 
very  ordinary  tasks  of  chopping  or  cf 
throwing  fodder  for  the  cattle.  This 
puzzled  the  girl  much  more  than  Kirstie's 
increasing  tendency  to  sit  dreaming  over 
the  hearth  fire  when  there  was  work  to  be 
done.  Miranda  felt  equal  to  doing  all 
the  winter  work,  and  she  knew  that  her 
mother,  like  herself,  was  ever  a  dreamer 
when  the  mood  was  on.  But  even  this 
brooding  abstraction  came  to  worry  her 
r 


aio    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

at  last,  when  one  morning,  after  a  drifting 
storm  which  had  piled  the  snow  halfway 
up  the  windows,  her  mother  let  her  shovel 
out  all  the  paths  unaided,  with  never  a 
comment  or  excuse.  Miranda  was  not 
aggrieved  at  this,  by  any  means  ;  but  she 
began  to  be  afraid,  sorely  afraid.  It  was 
so  unlike  the  alert  and  busy  Kirstie  of 
old  days.  Of  necessity,  Miranda  turned 
to  Dave  for  counsel  in  her  alarm,  when 
next  he  came  to  the  clearing. 

The  conference  took  place  in  the  warm 
twilight  of  the  cow  stable,  where  Dave, 
according  to  his  custom,  was  helping 
Miranda  at  the  milking,  while  Kirstie  got 
supper.  The  young  hunter  looked  seri- 
ous, but  not  surprised. 

"  I've  took  note  o'  the  change  this  two 
month  back,  Mirandy,"  he  said,  "  an' 
was  a-wonderin'  some  how  them  big  eyes 
of  yourn,  that  can  see  things  us  ordinary 
folks  can't  see,  could  be  blind  to  what 
teched  ye  so  close." 

"  I  wasn  t  blind  to  it,  Dave,"  protested 
the  girl,  indignantly ;  "  but  I  didn't  see 
how  you  could   help  any.     Nor   I   don't 


A  Venison   Steak  211 

see  now ;  but  there  was  no  one  else  1 
could  speak  to  about  it,"  she  added,  with 
a  break  in  her  voice  that  distantly  pre- 
saged tears. 

"  I  could  help  some,  if  you'd  let  me, 
Mirandy,"  he  hesitated,  "  for  I  know 
right  well  what  she's  needin'." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  '  demanded  the 
girl.  There  was  that  in  his  voice  which 
oppressed  her  with  a  vague  misgiving. 

"  It's  good,  fresh,  roast  meat  she 
wants  !  "  said  Dave. 

There  was  a  pause.  Miranda  turned 
and  looked  out  through  the  stable  door, 
across  the  glimmering  fields. 

"  It's  her  blood's  got  thin  an'  poor," 
continued  Dave.  "  Nothin'  but  flesh 
meat'll  build  her  up  now,  an'  she's  jest 
got  to  have  it."  He  was  beginning  to 
feel  it  was  time  that  Miranda  experienced 
the  touch  of  a  firm  hand. 

"  I  don't  believe  you ! ';  said  the  girl, 
and  turned  hotly  to  her  milking. 

"  Well,  we'll  see,"  retorted  Dave.  In 
Miranda's  silence  he  read  a  tardy  triumph 
for  his  views. 


212    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 


That  evening  he  took  note  of  the  fact 
that  Kirstie  came  to  supper  with  no  appe- 
tite, though  every  dish  of  it  was  tempting 
and  well  cooked.  Miranda  observed  this 
also.  Her  fresh  pang  of  apprehension  on 
her  mother's  account  was  mixed  with  a 
resentful  feeling  that  Dave  would  inter- 
pret every  symptom  as  a  confirmation  of 
his  own  view.  She  was  quite  honest  in  her 
rejection  of  that  view,  for  in  her  eyes  flesh 
food  was  a  kind  of  subtle  poison.  But 
she  was  too  anxious  about  her  mother's 
health  to  commit  herself  in  open  hostil- 
ity to  anything,  however  extreme,  which 
might  be  suggested  in  remedy.  On  this 
point  she  was  resolved  to  hold  aloof,  let- 
ting the  decision  rest  between  her  mother 
and  Dave. 

Aroused  by  the  young  hunter's  talk, 
Kirstie  was  brighter  than  usual  during  the 
meal  ;  but,  to  her  great  disappointment, 
Dave  got  up  to  go  immediately  after 
supper.  He  would  take  no  persuasion, 
but  insisted  that  he  had  come  just  to  see 
if  she  and  Miranda  were  well,  and  de- 
clared that  affairs  of  supreme  importance 


A  Venison   Steak  213 

called  him  straight  back  to  the  camp. 
Kirstie  was  not  convinced.  She  turned  a 
face  of  reproach  on  Miranda,  so  frankly 
that  the  girl  was  compelled  to  take  her 
meaning. 

"  Oh  !  it  isn't  my  fault,  mother,"  she 
protested,  with  a  little  vexed  laugh. 
"  I've  not  been  doing  anything  ugly  to 
him.  If  he  goes,  its  just  his  own  obsti- 
nacy, for  he  knows  we'd  like  him  to  stay 
as  he  always  does.  Let  him  go  if  he 
wants  to  ! " 

"  Mirandy,"  said  her  mother,  in  a  voice 
of  grave  rebuke,  "  I  wish  you  would  not 
be  so  hard  with  Dave.  If  you  treated 
your  dumb  beasts  like  you  treat  him,  I 
reckon  they  would  never  come  to  you  a 
second  time.  You  seem  to  forget  that 
Dave  and  his  father  are  our  only  friends, 
—  and  just  now,  Dave's  father  being  in 
the  lumber  camp,  we've  nobody  but  Dave 
here  to  look  to." 

"  Oh !  I've  nothing  against  Dave, 
mother,  except  the  blood  on  his  hands," 
retorted  the  girl,  turning  her  face  away. 

The  young  hunter  shrugged  his  shoul- 


214    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

ders,  deprecatingly,  smiled  a  slow  smile 
of  understanding  at  Kirstie,  and  strode  to 
the  door. 

"  Good  night,  both  of  ye,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  "  Ye'll  see  me  back,  liker'n 
not,  by  this  time  to-morrow." 

As  he  went,  Miranda  noticed  with 
astonishment  and  a  flush  of  warmth  that 
for  once  in  his  career  he  was  without  his 
inseparable  rifle.  Kirstie,  in  the  vacant, 
silence  that  followed  his  going,  had  it  on 
her  tongue  to  say,  "  I  do  wish  you  could 
take  to  Dave,  Miranda."  But  the  woman's 
heart  within  her  gave  her  warning  in  time, 
and  she  held  her  peace.  Thanks  to  this 
prudence,  Miranda  went  to  bed  that  night 
with  something  of  a  glow  at  her  heart. 
Dave's  coming  without  the  rifle  was  a  di- 
rect tribute  to  her  influence,  and  to  some 
extent  outweighed  his  horrible  suggestion 
that  her  mother  should  defile  her  mouth 
with  meat. 

The  next  evening  the  chores  were  all 
done  up  ;  the  "  rabbits  "  had  come  and 
gone  with  their  clover  and  carrots  ;  and 
Kirstie   and    Miranda   were   sitting   down 


A  Venison  Steak  215 

to  their  supper,  when  in  walked  Dave. 
He  carried  a  package  of  something  done 
up  in  brown  sacking.  This  time,  too.  he 
carried  his  rifle.  Kirstie's  welcome  was 
frankly  eager,  but  Miranda  saw  the  rifle, 
and  froze.  He  caught  her  look,  and  with 
a  flash  of  intuition  understood  it. 

"  Had  to  bring  it  along,  Mirandy,"  he 
explained,  with  a  flush  of  embarrassment. 
"Couldn't  ha'  got  here  without  it  The 
wolves  have  come  back  again,  six  of 'em. 
They  set  on  to  me  at  my  own  camp 
door." 

"  Oh,  wolves  !  "  exclaimed  Miranda,  in 
a  tone  of  aversion.     "  They're  vermin." 

Since  that  far-off  day  when,  with  her 
childish  face  flattened  against  the  pane, 
her  childish  heart  swelling  with  wrath  and 
tears,  she  had  watched  the  wolves  attack 
Ten-Tine's  little  herd,  she  had  hated  the 
ravening  beasts  with  a  whole-souled  hate. 

"  I  hope  to  goodness  you  killed  them 
all !  "  said  Kirstie,  with  pious  fervour. 

"Two  got  off;  got  the  pelts  of  the 
others,"  answered  Dave. 

"Not     too     bad,    that."     commented 


216    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Kirstie,  with  approval;   "now  come   and 
have  some  supper." 

"  Not  jest  yet,  Kirstie,"  he  replied,  un- 
doing his  package.  "  I've  noticed  lately 
ye  was  looking  mighty  peaked,  an'  hadn't 
much  appetite,  like.  Now  when  folks  has 
anything  the  matter  with  'em  I  know  as 
much  about  it  as  lots  of  the  doctors,  and 
I  know  what's  goin'  to  set  ye  right  up. 
If  ye'll  lend  me  the  loan  of  yer  fire,  an' 
a  frying-pan,  I'll  have  something  for  yer 
supper  that'll  do  ye  more  good  than  a 
bucketful  of  doctor's  medicine." 

Miranda  knew  what  was  coming.  She 
knew  Dave  had  been  all  the  way  back  to 
the  camp,  beyond  the  Quah-Davic,  for 
meat,  that  he  might  run  no  risk  of  kill- 
ing any  of  the  beasts  that  were  under 
her  protection.  She  knew,  too,  that  to 
make  such  a  journey  in  the  twenty-four 
hours  he  could  scarce  have  had  one  hour's 
sleep.  None  the  less,  she  hardened  her 
heart  against  him.  She  kept  her  eyes  on 
her  plate  and  listened  with  strained  inten- 
sity for  her  mother's  word  upon  this  vital 
subject. 


A  Venison  Steak  217 

Kirstie's  interest  was  now  very  much 
awake.  "There's  the  fire,  Dave,"  she 
said,  "  and  there's  the  frying-pan  hanging 
on  the  side  of  the  dresser.  But  what 
have  you  got  ?  I've  felt  this  long 
while  I'd  like  a  bit  of  a  change  —  not 
but  what  the  food  we're  used  to,  Miranda 
and  me,  is  real  good  food  and  wholesome." 

"  Well,  Kirstie,"  he  answered,  taking  a 
deep  breath  before  the  plunge,  and  at  the 
same  time  throwing  back  the  wrapping 
from  a  rosy  cut  of  venison  steak,  "  it's 
jest  nothin'  more  nor  less  than  fresh  meat. 
It's  venison,  clean  an'  wholesome ;  and 
I'll  fry  ye  right  now  this  tender  slice  I'm 
cuttin'  for  ye." 

Kirstie  was  startled  quite  out  of  her 
self-possession.  The  rule  of  the  cabin 
against  flesh  meat  was  so  long  established, 
so  well  known  at  the  Settlement,  so  fenced 
about  with  every  sanction  of  principle  and 
prejudice,  that  Dave's  words  were  of  the 
nature  of  a  challenge.  She  felt  that  she 
ought  to  be  angry;  but,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  she  was  only  uneasy  as  to  how 
Miranda  would  take  so  daring  a  proposal. 


21 8    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

At  the  same  time  she  was  suddenly  con- 
scious of  an  unholy  craving  for  the  for- 
bidden thing.  She  glanced  anxiously 
at  Miranda,  but  the  girl  appeared  to  be 
wrapped   up  in   her  own   thoughts. 

"  But  you  know,  Dave,"  she  protested 
rebukingly,  "  we  neither  of  us  ever  touch 
meat  of  any  kind.  You  know  our  opin- 
ions on  this  point." 

The  words  themselves  would  have  sat- 
isfied Miranda  had  she  not  detected  a  cer- 
tain irresolution  in  the  tone.  They  did 
not  affect  Dave  in  the  least.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  made  no  reply,  for  he  was  busy 
cutting  thin  slices  off  the  steak.  He 
spread  them  carefully  in  the  hot  butter, 
now  spluttering  in  the  pan  over  the  coals ; 
and  then,  straightening  himself  up  from 
the  task,  knife  in  hand,  he  answered  cheer- 
fully :  "  That's  all  right.  But,  ye  see, 
Kirstie,  all  the  folks  reckon  me  somethm' 
of  a  doctor,  an'  this  here  meat  I'm  cookin' 
for  ye  ain't  rightly  food  at  all.  It's  medi- 
cine ;  't  ain't  right  ye  should  hoki  off  now, 
when  ye  need  it  as  medicine.  'T  ain't  fair 
to    Mirandy.     I  can  see  yc've  jest  been 


A  Venison  Steak  219 


pinin'  away  like,  all  winter.  It's  new 
blood,  with  iron  in  it,  ye  need.  It's  flesh 
meat,  an'  flesh  meat  only,  that'll  give  ye 
iron  an'  new  blood.  When  ye' re  well,  an' 
yer  old  strong  self  agin,  ye  can  quit  meat 
if  ye  like,  —  an'  kick  me  out  o'  the  cabin 
for  interferin' ;  but  now  —  " 

He  paused  dramatically.  He  had  talked 
right  on,  contrary  to  his  silent  habit,  for  a 
purpose.  He  knew  the  power  of  natural 
cravings.  He  was  waiting  for  Kirstie's 
elemental  bodily  needs  to  speak  out  in 
support  of  his  argument.  He  waited  just 
time  for  the  savoury  smell  of  the  steak  to 
fill  the  cabin  and  work  its  miracle.  Now 
the  spell  was  abroad.  He  looked  to 
Kirstie  for  an  answer. 

The  instant  she  smelled  that  savour 
Kirstie  knew  that  he  was  right.  Steak, 
venison  steak  fried  in  butter,  was  what 
she  required.  For  weeks  she  had  had  no 
appetite;  now  she  was  ravenous.  More- 
over, a  thousand  lesser  forces,  set  in  mo- 
tion by  Dave's  long  talks,  were  impelling 
her  to  just  such  a  change  as  the  eating 
of  flesh  would  symbolize  to  her.     But  — 


220    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

Miranda  ?  Kirstie  stared  at  her  in  nervous 
apprehension,  expecting  an  outburst  of 
scorn.  But  Miranda  was  seemingly  ob- 
livious of  all  that  went  on  in  the  cabin. 
Her  unfathomed  eyes,  abstractedly  wide 
open,  were  staring  out  through  the  white 
square  of  the  window.  She  was  trying 
hard  to  think  about  the  mysterious  blue- 
white  wash  of  radiance  that  seemed  to 
pour  in  palpable  floods  from  the  full 
moon;  —  about  the  furred  and  furtive 
creatures  passing  and  repassing  noise- 
lessly, as  she  knew,  across  the  lit  patches 
of  the  glades  ;  —  about  the  herd  of  moose 
down  in  the  firwoods,  sleeping  securely 
between  walls  of  deep  snow  in  the  "  yard," 
which  they  had  trodden  for  themselves  a 
fortnight  back  ;  —  of  Kroof,  coiled  in  her 
warm  den  under  the  pine  root,  with  five 
feet  of  drift  piled  over  her.  But  in  reality 
she  was  steeling  herself,  with  fierce  desper- 
ation, against  a  strange  appetite  which  was 
rising  within  her  at  the  call  of  that  insidi- 
ous fragrance.  With  a  kind  of  horror  she 
realized  that  she  was  at  war  with  herself 
—  that  one  half  her  nature  was  really  more 


A  Venison  Steak  221 

than  ready  to  partake  of  the  forbidden 
food. 

Dave  noticed  the  look  of  question  which 
Kirstie  had  turned  upon  Miranda. 

"  Oh,  ye  needn't  look  to  her,  Kirstie,  to 
back  ye  up  in  no  foolishness,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  spoke  to  her  last  night  about  it,  an'  she 
hadn't  a  word  to  say  agin  my  medicine.1' 

Still  there  was  no  comment  from  Mi- 
randa. If  Miranda,  to  whom  abstinence 
from  flesh  was  a  religion,  could  tolerate  a 
compromise,  why  she  herself,  to  whom  it 
was  merely  a  prejudice  and  a  preference, 
might  well  break  an  ancient  rule  for  an 
instant's  good.  She  had  been  inwardly 
anxious  for  months  about  her  condition. 
After  a  second  or  two  of  doubt,  her  mind 
was  made  up  ;  and  when  Kirstie  made  up 
her  mind,  it  was  in  no  halfway  fashion. 

"  I'll  try  your  doctoring,  Dave,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  I'll  give  it  a  fair  trial. 
But  while  you're  about  it,  why  don't  you 
cook  enough  for  yourself,  too  ?  Have 
you  put  salt  in  the  pan  ?  And  here's  a 
dash  of  pepper." 

"No,"    answered    the    young    hunter, 


ill    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

concealing  his  elation  as  he  sprinkled  the 
steak  temperately  with  the  proffered  salt 
and  pepper,  "  I  don't  want  none  myself, 
I  need  meat  onct  in  a  while,  er  I  git  weak 
an'  no  good.  But  there's  nothin'  suits  my 
taste  like  the  feeds  I  git  here,  —  the  pipin' 
hot  riz  buckwheat  cakes,  with  lots  o'  but- 
ter an'  molasses,  an'  the  johnny-cake,  an' 
the  potater  pie,  an'  the  tasty  ways  ye  cook 
eggs.  I  often  think  when  I'm  here  that 
I  wouldn't  care  if  I  never  seen  a  slice  o' 
fresh  meat,  er  even  bacon,  agin.  But  our 
bodies  is  built  a  certain  way,  an'  there's 
no  gittin'  over  Nature's  intention.  We've 
got  the  teeth  to  prove  it,  an'  the  in- 
sides,  too,  —  I've  read  all  about  it  in 
doctors'  books.  I  read  a  heap  in  camp. 
Fact  is,  Kirstie,  we're  built  like  the  bear, 
—  to  live  on  all  kinds  of  food,  includin' 
flesh,  —  an'  if  we  don't  git  all  kinds  onct 
in  a  while,  somethin's  bound  to  go  wrong." 
Never  had  Dave  talked  so  much  be- 
fore ;  but  now  he  was  feverishly  eager  to 
have  no  opening  for  discussion.  While 
he  talked  the  venison  was  cooked  and 
served.      Kirstie  ate  it  with  a  relish,  which 


A  Venison   Steak  223 


convinced  him  of  the  wisdom  of  his 
course.  She  ate  all  that  he  had  fried ; 
and  he  wisely  refrained  from  cooking 
more,  that  her  appetite  might  be  kept  on 
edge  for  it  in  the  morning.  Then  she 
ate  other  things,  with  an  unwonted  zest. 
Miranda  returned  to  the  table,  talking 
pleasantly  of  everything  but  health,  and 
food,  and  hunting.  Against  herself  she 
was  angry  ;  but  on  Dave,  to  his  surprise, 
she  smiled  with  a  rare  graciousness.  She 
was  mollified  by  his  tact  in  characterizing 
the  steak  as  medicine ;  and,  moreover,  by 
his  statement  of  a  preference  for  their  or- 
dinary bloodless  table,  he  seemed  in  some 
way  to  range  himself  on  her  side,  even 
while  challenging  her  principles.  But  — 
oh,  that  savoury  smell  !  It  still  enriched 
the  air  of  the  cabin  ;  it  still  stirred  riot- 
ous cravings  in  her  astonished  appetite. 
She  trembled  with  a  fear  and  hatred  of 
herself. 

When  Kirstie,  with  a  face  to  which  the 
old  glow  was  already  venturing  back,  laid 
down  her  knife  and  fork,  and  explained  to 
her    guest,  "  You're   a   good   doctor,  and 


224    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

no  mistake,  Dave  Titus ;  I  declare  I  feel 
better  already/'  Miranda  got  up  and 
went  silently  out  into  the  moonlight  to 
breathe  new  air  and  take  counsel  with 
herself. 

Dave  would  have  followed  her,  but 
Kirstie  stopped  him.  "  Best  let  her 
be,"  she  said  meaningly,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  She's  got  a  heap  to  think  over  in  the 
last  half  hour." 

"  But  she  took  it  a  sight  better'n  I 
thought  she  would,"   responded   Dave. 

And  all  on  account  of  a  venison  steak, 
his  hopes  soared  higher  than  they  had 
ever  dared  before. 


Chapter  XVI 
Death  for  a  Little  Life 

THENCEFORWARD  Kirstie  twice 
or  thrice  a  week  medicined  herself 
with  fresh  venison,  provided  assiduously 
by  Young  Dave,  and  by  the  time  spring 
was  fairly  in  possession  of  the  clearing, 
she  was  her  old  strong  self  again.  But 
as  for  Dave's  hopes,  they  had  been  re- 
duced to  desolation.  Miranda  had  taken 
alarm  at  her  sudden  carnivorous  craving, 
and  in  her  effort  to  undo  that  moment's 
weakness  she  had  withdrawn  herself  to 
the  utmost  from  Dave's  influence.  She 
had  been  the  further  incited  to  this  by  an 
imagined  aloofness  on  the  part  of  her 
furred  and  feathered  pensioners.  A  pair 
of  foxes,  doubtless  vagrants  from  beyond 
her  sphere,  had  spread  slaughter  among 
the  hares  as  they  returned  from  feeding 
at  the  cabin.  The  hungry  raiders  had 
laid  an  ambush  at  the  edge  of  the  clear- 

Q  225 


226    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

ing  on  two  successive  nights.  They  had 
killed  recklessly.  Then  they  vanished, 
doubtless  driven  away  by  the  steady  resi- 
dents who  knew  how  to  kill  discreetly  and 
to  guard  their  preserves  from  poachers. 
But  the  hares  had  taken  alarm,  and  few 
came  now  o'  nights  for  Miranda's  carrots 
and  clover.  Miranda,  with  a  little  ache 
at  her  heart,  concluded  from  this  that 
she  had  forfeited  her  ascendency  among 
the  kin  of  the  ancient  wood.  There  had 
been  a  migration,  too,  among  the  squir- 
rels, so  that  now  these  red  busybodies 
were  perceptibly  fewer  about  the  cabin 
roof.  And  the  birds  —  they  were  nearly 
all  gone.  An  unusually  early  spring,  lay- 
ing bare  the  fields  in  the  lower  country, 
and  bringing  out  the  insects  before  their 
wont,  had  scattered  Miranda's  flocks  a 
fortnight  earlier  than  usual.  No  crumbs 
could  take  the  place  of  swelling  seeds 
and  the  first  fat  May-fly.  But  Miranda 
thought  they  were  fled  through  distrust 
of  her.  Kroof,  old  Kroof  the  constant, 
was  all  unchanged  when  she  came  from 
her  winter's   sleep ;   but    this    spring    she 


Death  for  a   Little   Life  227 


brought  an  unusually  fine  cub  with  her, 
and  the  cub,  of  necessity,  took  a  good 
deal  of  her  time  and  attention  away  from 
Miranda.  When  Miranda  was  with  her, 
roaming  the  still,  transparent  corridors, 
all  the  untroubled  past  came  back,  crystal- 
line and  flawless  as  of  old.  Once  more 
the  furtive  folk  went  about  their  business 
in  the  secure  peace  of  her  neighbour- 
hood ;  once  more  she  revelled  with  a 
kind  of  intoxication  in  the  miraculous 
fineness  of  her  vision ;  once  more  she 
felt  assured  of  the  mastery  of  her  look. 
But  this  was  in  the  intervals  between 
Dave's  visits.  When  he  was  at  the  clear- 
ing, everything  was  different.  She  was 
no  longer  sure  of  herself  on  any  point. 
And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  the  more 
indifference  to  him  she  feigned,  the  less 
she  felt.  She  was  quite  unconscious,  all 
the  while,  that  her  mother  was  shrewdly 
watching  her  struggles.  She  was  not  un- 
conscious, however,  of  Dave's  attitude. 
She  saw  that  he  seemed  dull  and  worried, 
which  gratified  her,  she  knew  not  why, 
and  confirmed  her  in  her  coolness.     But 


228    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

at  last,  with  a  slow  anger  beginning  to 
burn  at  his  heart,  he  adopted  the  policy 
of  ignoring  her  altogether,  and  giving  all 
his  thought  to  Kirstie,  whereupon  Mi- 
randa awoke  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  her  plain  duty  to  be  civil  to  her 
mother's  guest. 

This  change,  not  obtrusive,  but  of  great 
moment  to  Dave,  came  over  the  girl  in 
June,  when  the  dandelions  were  starring 
the  pasture  grass.  The  sowing  and  the 
potato  planting  were  just  done.  The  lilac 
bushes  beside  the  cabin  were  a  mass  of 
purple  enchantment.  It  was  not  a  time 
for  hard  indifference  ;  and  Dave  was  quick 
to  catch  the  melting  mood.  His  manner 
was  such,  however,  that  Miranda  could 
not  take  alarm. 

"  Mirandy,"  said  he,  with  the  merest 
good  comradeship  in  tone  and  air,  "  would 
ye  take  a  little  trip  with  me  to-morrow,  now 
that  the  crops  can  spare  ye  a  bit  ?  " 

"  Where  to,  Dave  ?  "  interposed  Kirstie, 
fearful  lest  the  girl  should  refuse  out  of 
hand,  before  she  knew  what  Dave  proposed 
to  do. 


Death  for  a  Little  Life  229 


"Why,  I've  got  to  go  over  the  divide 
an'  run  down  the  Big  Fork  in  my  canoe  to 
Gabe  White's  clearin',  with  some  medicine 
I've  brought  from  the  Settlement  for  his 
little  boy  what's  sick.  He's  a  leetle  mite  of 
a  chap,  five  year  old,  with  long,  yaller  curls, 
purty  as  a  picture,  but  that  peaked  an' 
thin,  it  goes  to  yer  heart  to  see  him.  Gabe 
came  in  to  the  Settlement  yesterday  to 
see  the  doctor  about  him  an'  git  medicine ; 
but  he's  had  to  go  right  on  to  the  city  to 
sell  his  pelts,  an'  git  some  stuff  the  doctor 
says  the  little  feller  must  hev,  what  can't 
be  got  in  the  Settlement  at  all.  So  Gabe 
give  me  this  "  (and  he  pulled  a  bottle  out 
of  the  inside  pocket  of  his  hunting  shirt) 
"  to  take  to  him  right  now,  coz  the  little 
feller  needs  it  badly.  It's  a  right  purty 
trip,  Mirandy,  an'  the  Big  Fork's  got  some 
rapids  'at'll  please  ye.     What  ye  say  ? ' 

Dave  was  growing  subtle  under  Mi- 
randa's discipline.  He  knew  that  the 
picture  of  the  small  boy  would  draw  her ; 
and  also  that  the  sight  of  the  ailing  child, 
acting  upon  her  quick  sympathies,  would 
awaken  a  new  human  interest  and  work  se- 


230    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

cretly  in  favour  of  himself.  The  beauty  of 
the  scenery,  the  excitement  of  the  rapids,  — 
these  were  a  secondary  influence,  yet  he 
knew  they  would  not  be  without  appeal 
to  the  beauty-worshipping  and  fearless 
Miranda. 

The  girl's  deep  eyes  lightened  at  the 
prospect.  She  would  see  something  a 
little  different,  yet  not  alien  or  hostile, 
—  a  new  river,  other  hills  and  woods,  a 
deeper  valley,  a  ruder  cabin  in  a  remoter 
clearing,  a  lonely  woman,  —  above  all,  a 
little  sick  boy  with  long,  yellow  hair. 

"  But  it  must  be  a  long  way  off,  Dave," 
she  protested,  in  a  tone  that  invited  con- 
tradiction. 

"  Not  so  fur  as  to  the  Settlement," 
answered  Dave ;  "  an'  it  don't  take  half 
so  long  to  go  because  o'  the  quick  run 
down  river.  I  reckon,  though,  we'd  best 
stay  over  night  at  White's  clearin'  and 
come  back  easy  nex'  day  —  if  you  don't 
mind,  Kirstie  !  Sary  Ann  White's  a  power- 
ful fine  woman,  an'  Mirandy's  sure  to  like 
her.  It'll  do  her  a  sight  of  good,  poor 
thing,  to  hev  Mirandy  to  talk  to  a  bit." 


Death  tor  a   Little   Life  231 

He  wanted  to  say  that  just  a  look  at 
Miranda's  wild  loveliness  would  do  Mrs. 
White  a  lot  of  good  ;  but  he  had  not  quite 
the  courage  for  such  a  bold  compliment. 

"  No,  I  don't  mind,  if  Miranda  likes  to 
go,"  said  Kirstie  ;  "  I  shan't  be  lonesome, 
as  Kroof'll  be  round  most  of  the  time." 

tt  had  come  to  be  understood,  and  ac- 
cepted without  comment,  that  when  Dave 
went  anywhere  with  Miranda  the  jealous 
old  bear  remained  at  home. 

Until  they  were  fairly  off,  Dave  was  in 
a  fever  of  anxiety  lest  Miranda  should 
change  her  mind.  But  this  venture  had 
genuinely  caught  her  interest,  and  no  whim 
tempted  her  to  withdraw.  After  a  break- 
fast eaten  so  early  that  the  early  June 
dawn  was  still  throwing  its  streaks  of  cool 
red  through  the  cabin  window  and  dis- 
couraging the  fire  upon  the  hearth,  Dave 
and  Miranda  set  out.  They  followed  the 
path  to  the  spring  among  the  alders,  and 
then  plunged  direct  into  the  woods,  aim- 
ing a  little  to  the  east  of  ncrth.  The  dew 
was  thick  in  silver  globules  on  the  chips 
of  the  yard  and  on  the  plantain  leaves.     It 


232    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

beaded  the  slender  grasses  about  the  spring, 
and  the  young  foliage  of  the  alders,  and 
the  dazzling  veils  of  the  gossamer  spiders. 
This  time  Dave  took  his  rifle  with  him, 
and  Miranda  paid  no  heed  to  it. 

The  woods  were  drenching  wet,  but 
unusually  pervaded  with  light.  The  new 
risen  sun  sent  its  fresh  rays  far  up  the 
soundless  vistas,  and  every  damp  leaf  or 
shining  facet  of  bark  diffused  its  little  dole 
of  lustre  to  thin  the  gloom.  As  the  sun 
got  higher  and  the  dew  exhaled  away,  the 
twilight  slightly  deepened,  the  inexpressi- 
ble clarity  of  the  shadowed  air  returned, 
and  the  heart  of  the  ancient  wood  resumed 
its  magic.  The  awe,  as  of  an  enchant- 
ment working  unseen,  the  meaning  and 
expectant  stillness,  the  confusion  of  near 
and  far,  the  unreality  of  the  familiar,  —  all 
this  gripped  the  imagination  of  the  two 
travellers  just  as  sharply  as  if  they  had 
not  been  all  their  lives  accustomed  to  it. 
The  mystery  of  the  ancient  wood  was  not 
to  be  staled  by  use.  These  two,  sensitive 
to  its  spell  as  a  surface  of  glass  to  a  breath, 
lay  open  to  it  in  every  nerve,  and  a  tense 


Death  for  a   Little   Life  233 


silence  fell  upon  their  lips.  In  the  silence 
was  understanding  of  each  other.  It  was 
Dave's  most  potent  wooing,  against  which 
Miranda  had  no  warning,  no  defence. 

As  they  walked  thus  noiselessly,  light- 
footed  as  the  furtive  folk  themselves,  sud- 
denly from  a  bit  of  open  just  ahead  of 
them  there  came  the  slender,  belling  cry 
of  a  young  deer.  They  had  arrived  now, 
after  three  hours'  rapid  walking,  at  a  part 
of  the  forest  unknown  to  Miranda.  The 
open  space  was  rock  thinly  covered  with 
mosses  and  vines,  an  upthrust  of  the 
granite  foundations  of  a  hill  which  tow- 
ered near  by. 

It  was  an  unheard-of  thing  for  a  young 
deer  to  give  cry  so  heedlessly  amid  the 
perilous  coverts  of  the  wood.  Both  the 
travellers  instinctively  paused,  and  then 
stole  forward  with  greater  caution,  peering 
through  the  branches.  To  the  forest 
dwellers,  beast  or  human,  the  unusual  is 
always  the  suspicious,  and  therefore  to  be 
investigated.  A  few  paces  carried  them 
both  to  a  point  where  Miranda  caught 
sight  of  the  imprudent  youngling. 


234     *  he  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  Hush  ! '  she  whispered,  laying  her 
hand  on  Dave's  arm.  "  Look  !  the  poor 
little  thing's  lost.     Don't  frighten  it !  " 

"  There'll  be  something  else'll  frighten 
it  afore  long,"  muttered  Dave,  "  if  it  don't 
quit  its  bla'tin'." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his 
mouth  when  the  little  animal  jumped, 
trembled,  started  to  run,  and  then  looked 
piteously  from  side  to  side,  as  if  uncertain 
which  way  to  flee  and  from  what  peril. 
An  instant  more  and  the  greyish-brown 
form  of  a  lynx  shot  like  lightning  from  the 
underbrush.  It  caught  the  young  deer 
by  the  throat,  dragged  it  down,  tore  it 
savagely,  and  began  drinking  its  blood. 

"Kill  it!  kill  it!"  panted  Miranda, 
starting  forward.  But  Dave's  hand 
checked  her. 

"  Wait !  "  he  said  firmly.  "  The  little 
critter's  dead ;  we  can't  do  it  no  good. 
Wait  an'  we'll  git  both  the  varmints. 
There'll  be  a  pair  of  'em." 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  Miranda 
would  have  resented  the  idea  of  getting 
"  both  the  varmints  "  ;  but  just  now  she 


Death  tor  a  Little  Lite 


^35 


was  savage  with  pity  for  the  young  deer, 
and  she  chose  to  remember  vindictively 
that  far-off  day  when  Ganner  had  come  to 
the  clearing,  and  only  the  valour  of  Star, 
the  brindled  ox,  had  saved  herself  and 
Michael,  the  calf,  from  a  cruel  death.  She 
obeyed  Dave's  command,  therefore,  and 
waited. 

But  there  was  another  who  would  not 
wait.  The  mother  doe  had  heard  her 
lost  little  one's  appeal.  In  wild  haste, 
but  noiseless  on  the  deep  carpet  of  the 
moss,  she  came  leaping  to  the  cry.  She 
saw  what  Miranda  and  Dave  saw.  But 
she  did  not  pause  to  calculate,  or  weigh  the 
odds  against  her.  With  one  bound  she 
was  out  in  the  open.  With  the  next  she 
was  upon  the  destroyer.  The  hungry 
lynx  looked  up  just  in  time  to  avoid  the 
fair  impact  of  her  descending  hooves, 
which  would  have  broken  his  back.  As 
it  was,  he  caught  a  glancing  blow  on  the 
flank,  which  ripped  his  fine  fur  and  hurled 
him  several  paces  down  the  slope. 

Before  he  could  fully  recover,  the  deer 
was  upon  him  again;  and  Miranda,  her 


236    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

eyes  glowing,  her  cheeks  scarlet  with 
excitement  and  exultation,  clutched  her 
companion's  arm  with  such  a  grip  that 
her  slim  fingers  hurt  him  deliciously. 
The  lynx,  alarmed  and  furious,  twisted 
himself  over  and  fixed  both  claws  and 
teeth  in  his  adversary's  leg,  just  below  the 
shoulder.  Fierce  and  strong  as  he  was, 
he  was  nevertheless  getting  badly  pun- 
ished, when  his  mate  appeared  bounding 
down  the  slope,  and  with  a  sharp  snarl 
sprang  upon  the  doe's  neck,  bearing  her 
to  her  knees. 

"  Shoot !  shoot ! "  cried  Miranda,  spring- 
ing away  from  Dave's  side  to  give  him 
room.  But  his  rifle  was  at  his  shoulder 
ere  she  spoke.  With  the  word  his  shot 
rang  out;  and  the  second  assailant  dropped 
to  the  ground,  kicking.  Immediately 
Dave  ran  forward.  The  male  lynx,  dis- 
entangling himself,  darted  for  cover ;  but 
just  as  he  was  disappearing,  Dave  gave 
him  the  second  barrel,  at  short  range,  and 
the  bullet  caught  him  obliquely  across  the 
hind  quarters,  breaking  his  spine.  Dave 
was   noted   as   the  best  shot  in    all    that 


Death  for  a  Little  Life         237 

region  ;  but  the  marksmanship  which  he 
had  just  displayed  was  lost  on  Miranda. 
She  took  it  for  granted  that  to  shoot  was 
to  hit,  and  to  hit  was  to  kill,  as  a  matter 
of  course.  Dave's  first  shot  had  killed. 
The  animal  was  already  motionless.  But 
the  writhings  of  the  other  lynx,  prone  in 
the  bush,  tore  her  heart. 

"  Oh,  how  it's  suffering !  Kill  it, 
quick ! "  she  panted.  Dave  ran  up, 
swung  his  rifle  in  a  short  grip,  and  struck 
the  beast  a  settling  blow  at  the  base  of 
the  skull.  The  deer,  meanwhile,  limping 
and  bleeding,  but  not  seriously  the  worse 
for  her  dreadful  encounter,  hobbled  back 
to  where  the  body  of  her  young  lay 
stretched  upon  the  moss.  She  sniffed  at 
it  for  a  moment  with  her  delicate  nose, 
satisfied  herself  that  it  was  quite  dead, 
then  moved  off  slowly  into  the  shadows. 

Miranda  went  to  each  of  the  three 
slain  animals  in  turn,  and  looked  at  them 
thoughtfully,  while  Dave  waited  in  silence, 
uncertain  what  to  do  next.  He  felt  that 
it  behooved  him  to  step  warily  while 
Miranda    was    wrestling    with     emotions. 


238    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

At  last  she  said,  with  a  sob  in  her  voice, 
and  her  eyes  very  bright  and  large,  — 

"  Come,  let's  get  away  from  this  horrid 
place  ! " 

Dave  experienced  a  certain  mild  pang 
at  the  thought  of  leaving  two  good  pelts 
behind  him  to  be  gnawed  by  foxes  ;  but 
he  followed  Miranda  without  a  word.  It 
would  have  been  a  fatal  error  to  talk  of 
furs  at  that  moment.  As  soon,  however, 
as  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  open 
slope,  he  turned  aside  and  headed  their 
course  toward  a  rocky  knoll  which  was 
visible  through   the   trees. 

"  What  are  you  going  that  way  for  ?  " 
asked   Miranda. 

"  Likely  the  lou'-cerfies  had  their  den 
in  the  rocks  yonder,"  was  the  reply ;  "  we 
must  find  it." 

"  What  do  we  want  of  their  den  ?  ' 
queried  the  girl  in  surprise. 

"There'll  be  a  couple  of  lou'-cerfie  kit- 
tens in  it,  I  reckon,"  said  Dave,  "  an'  we 
must  find  'em." 

"  What  for  ?  "  demanded  Miranda,  sus- 
piciously. 


Death  for  a   Little   Life  239 

Dave  looked  at  her. 

"  You've  had  me  shoot  the  father  an' 
mother,  Mirandy,"  he  said  slowly,  "  for 
the  sake  of  the  deer.  An'  now  would  ye 
hev  the  little  ones  starve  to  death?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,  Dave," 
answered  the  girl,  smitten  with  remorse ; 
and  she  looked  at  him  with  a  new  ap- 
proval. She  thought  to  herself  that  he, 
hunter  and  blood-stained  as  he  was, 
showed  yet  a  readier  and  more  reasonable 
tenderness  for  the  furry  kindred  than  she 
herself. 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  they  searched 
the  hollows  of  the  rocky  knoll,  and  at 
last  came  upon  a  shallow  cave  overhung 
darkly  by  a  mat  of  dwarf  cedar.  There 
were  bones  about  the  entrance,  and  inside, 
upon  a  bed  of  dry  moss,  were  two  small 
rusty  brown,  kitten-like  objects  curled 
softly  together.  Miranda's  discerning 
vision  perceived  them  at  once,  but  it  took 
Dave's  eyes  some  seconds  to  adapt  them- 
selves to  the  gloom.  Then  the  furry  ball 
of  "  lou'-cerfie "  kittens  looked  to  him 
very    pretty — something    to    be    fondled 


240    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

and  protected.  He  knew  well  how  their 
helplessness  would  appeal  to  Miranda's 
tender  heart.  Nevertheless,  with  a  firm- 
ness of  courage  which,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, few  heroes  would  have  arisen 
to,  he  stepped  forward,  stooped,  untangled 
the  soft  ball,  and  with  the  heavy  handle 
of  his  hunting-knife  struck  each  kitten 
just  one  sharp  stroke  on  the  neck,  killing 
it  instantly  and  easily. 

"  Poor  little  critters  !  "  he  muttered  ; 
"  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do  with  'em," 
and  he  turned  to  Miranda. 

The  girl  had  backed  out  of  the  cave 
and  now  stood,  with  flushed  face,  staring 
at  him  fiercely. 

"  You  brute  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Dave  had  been  prepared  for  some  discus- 
sion of  his  action.  But  he  was  not  pre- 
pared for  just  this.      He  drew  himself  up. 

"  I  did  think  ye  was  a  woman  grown  ; 
an'  for  all  yer  idees  were  kind  of  far- 
fetched, I've  respected  'em  a  heap  ;  an'  I 
won't  say  but  what  they've  influenced 
me,  too.  But  now  I  see  ye' re  but  a  silly 
child    an'    don't    reason.      Did    ye   think, 


Death  for  a   Little   Life  241 

maybe,  these  here  leetle   mites  o'   things 
could  live  an'  take  keer  o'  themselves  ? " 

He  spoke  coldly,  scornfully  ;  and  there 
was  a  kind  of  mastery  in  his  voice  that 
quelled  her.  She  was  astonished,  too. 
The  colour  in  her  face  deepened,  but 
she  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  I  wanted  to  take  them  home,  and  tame 
them,"  she  explained,  quite  humbly. 

Dave's  stern  face  softened. 

"  Ye'd  never  'a'  been  able  to  raise  'em. 
They're  too  young,  a  sight  too  young. 
See,  their  eyes  ain't  open.  They'd  have 
jest  died  on  yer  hands,  Mirandy,  sure  an' 
sartain  ! " 

"  But  —  how  could  you  !  "  she  protested, 
with  no  more  anger  left,  but  a  sob  of  pity 
in  her  throat. 

"  It  was  jest  what  you  do  to  the  fish  ye 
ketch,  Mirandy,  to  stop  their  sufferin'." 

Miranda  looked  up  quickly,  and  her 
eyes  grew  large. 

"  Do  you   know,  I   never  thought   of 
that    before,    Dave,"   she    replied.      "  I'll 
never  catch  a  fish  again,  long  as    I   live  ! 
Let's  get  away  from  here." 
k 


242    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  Ye  see,"  began  Dave,  making  up  his 
mind  to  sow  a  few  seeds  of  doubt  in 
Miranda's  mind  as  to  the  correctness  of 
her  theories,  "  ye  see,  Mirandy,  't  ain't 
possible  to  be  consistent  right  through  in 
this  life  ;  but  what  ye'll  find,  life'll  make 
a  fool  o'  ye  at  one  point  or  another.  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  say  I  think  ye're  all  wrong, 
not  by  no  means.  Sence  I've  seen  the 
way  ye  understand  the  live  critters  of  the 
woods,  an'  how  they  understand  you, 
I've  come  to  feel  some  different  about 
killin'  'em  myself.  But,  Mirandy,  Na- 
ture's nature,  an'  ye  can't  do  much  by 
buckin'  up  agin  her.  Look  now,  ye  told 
me  to  shoot  the  lou'-cerfie  coz  he  killed 
the  deer  kid.  But  he  didn't  go  to  kill  it 
for  ugliness,  nor  jest  for  himself  to  make 
a  dinner  off  of — you  know  that.  He 
killed  it  for  his  mate,  too.  Lou'-cerfie 
ain't  built  so's  they  can  eat  grass.  If  the 
she  lou'-cerfie  didn't  git  the  meat  she 
needed,  her  kittens'd  starve.  She's  jest 
got  to  kill.  Nature's  put  that  law  onto 
her,  an'  onto  the  painters,  an'  the  foxes 
an'    wolves,  the    'coons   an'    the    weasels. 


Death  for  a  Little  Life  243 

An'  she's  put  the  same  law,  only  not  so 
heavy,  onto  the  bears,  an'  also  onto 
humans,  what's  all  built  to  live  on  all 
kinds  of  food,  meat  among  the  rest.  An' 
to  live  right,  and  be  their  proper  selves, 
they've  all  got  to  eat  meat  sometimes, 
for  Nature  don't  stand  much  foolin'  with 
her  laws  !  " 

"  Tm  well,"  interrupted  Miranda, 
eagerly,   with    the    obvious    retort. 

"  Maybe  ye  won't  be  always  ! "  sug- 
gested Dave. 

"Then  I'll  be  sick — then  I'll  die 
before  I'll  eat  meat!  "  she  protested  pas- 
sionately. "What's  the  good  of  living, 
anyway,  if  it's  nothing  but  kill,  kill,  kill, 
and  for  one  that  lives  a  lot  have  got  to 
die ! " 

Dave  shook  his  head  soberly. 

"  That's  what  nobody,  fur's  I  can  see, 
Mirandy,  has  ever  been  able  to  make  out 
yet.  I've  thought  about  it  a  heap,  an' 
read  about  it  a  heap,  alone  in  camp,  an'  I 
can't  noways  see  through  it.  Oftentimes 
it's  seemed  to  me  all  life  was  jest  like  a 
few  butterflies  flitterin'  over  a  graveyard. 


244    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

But  all  the  same,  if  we  don't  go  to  too 
much  foolish  worryin'  'bout  what  we  can't 
understand,  we  do  feel  it's  good  to  be 
alive ;  an'  I  do  think,  Mirandy,  this 
life  might  be  somethin'  finer  than  the 
finest  kind   of  a  dream." 

Something  in  his  voice,  at  these  last 
words,  thrilled  Miranda,  and  at  the  same 
time  put  her  on  her  guard. 

"  Well,"  she  exclaimed  positively,  if 
not  relevantly,  "  I'm  never  going  to  catch 
another  fish." 

The  answer  not  being  just  what  Dave 
needed  for  the  support  of  his  advance, 
he  lost  courage,  and  let  the  conversation 
drop. 


Chapter  XVII 
In  the  Roar  of  the  Rapids 

A  LITTLE  before  noon,  when  the 
midsummer  heat  of  the  outside 
world  came  filtering  faintly  down  even 
into  the  cool  vistas  of  the  forest,  and  here 
and  there  a  pale-blue  butterfly  danced 
with  his  mate  across  the  clear  shadow, 
and  the  aromatic  wood  smells  came  out 
more  abundantly  than  was  their  wont,  at 
the  lure  of  the  persuasive  warmth,  the 
travellers  halted  for  noonmeat.  Sitting 
on  a  fallen  hemlock  trunk  beside  a  small 
but  noisy  brook,  it  was  a  frugal  meal  they 
made  on  the  cheese  and  dark  bread  which 
Kirstie  had  put  in  Dave's  satchel.  Their 
halt  was  brief;  and  as  they  set  out  again, 
Dave  said  :  — 

"'T  ain't  a  mile  from  here  to  the  Big 
Fork.  Gabe's  canoe's  hid  in  the  bushes 
just  where  this  here  brook  falls  in. 
Noisy,  ain't  it  ?  " 

«45 


246    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

"  I  love  the  sound,"  exclaimed  Miranda, 
stepping  quickly  and  gaily,  as  if  the  light, 
musical  clamour  of  the  stream  had  got 
into  her  blood. 

"  Well,  the  Big  Fork's  a  sight  noisier," 
continued  Dave.  "  It's  heavy  water,  an' 
just  rapids  on  rapids  all  the  ways  down  to 
Gabe's  clearing.  Ye  won't  be  skeered, 
Mirandy  ?  " 

The  girl  gave  one  of  her  rare  laughs, 
very  high-pitched,  but  brief,  musical,  and 
curiously  elusive.  She  was  excited  at  the 
prospect. 

"  I  reckon  you  know  how  to  handle  a 
canoe,  Dave,"  was  all  she  said.  The 
trust  in  her  voice  made  Dave  feel  meas- 
urably nearer  his  purpose.  He  durst  not 
speak,  lest  his  elation  should  betray  itself. 

In  a  little  while  there  came  another 
sound,  not  drowning  or  even  obscuring  the 
clear  prattle  of  the  brook,  but  serving  as  a 
heavy  background  to  its  brightness.  It 
was  a  large,  yet  soft,  pulsating  thunder, 
and  seemed  to  come  from  all  sides  at  once; 
as  if  far-off  herds,  at  march  over  hollow 
lands,  were  closing  in  upon  them.      Dave 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids       247 

looked  at  Miranda.     She  gave  him  a  shin- 
ing glance  of  comprehension. 

"  It's  the  rapids  !  "  she  cried.  "  Do  we 
go  through  those? " 

Dave  laughed. 

"  Not  those  !  Not  by  a  long  chalk  ! 
That's  the  c  Big  Soo '  ye  hear,  an'  it's 
more  a  fall  than  a  rapid.  Ther's  an  eddy 
an'  a  still  water  jest  below,  an'  that's  where 
we  take  to  the  canoe." 

As  they  went  on,  the  great  swelling 
noise  seemed  to  Miranda  to  fill  her  soul, 
and  worked  a  deep  yet  still  excitement 
within  her.  Nevertheless,  rapidly  as  its 
volume  increased,  the  light  chatter  of  the 
brook  was  upborne  distinctly  upon  the 
flood  of  it.  Then,  suddenly,  as  the  forest 
thinned  ahead,  and  the  white  daylight  con- 
fronted them,  the  voice  of  the  brook  was 
in  an  instant  overwhelmed,  utterly  effaced. 
The  softly  pervasive  thunder  burst  all  at 
once  into  a  trembling  roar,  vehement,  eon 
flicting,  explosive;  and  they  came  out  lull 
in  face  of  a  long,  distorted  slope  of  cataract 
White,  yellow,  tawny  green,  the  wa 
bounded    and    wallowed    down    the    loud 


248    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

steep ;  and  here  and  there  the  black  bulks 
of  rock  shouldered  upward,  opposing  them 
eternally. 

Spellbound  at  the  sight,  Miranda  stood 
gazing,  while  Dave  fetched  from  the  bushes 
a  ruddy-yellow  canoe  of  birch  bark,  and 
launched  it  in  a  quiet  but  foam-flecked 
back-water  at  their  feet.  In  the  bow  he 
placed  a  compact  bundle  of  bracken  for 
Miranda  to  sit  upon,  with  another  flat 
bundle  at  her  back,  that  the  cross-bar 
might  not  gall   her. 

"  Best  fer  ye  to  sit  low,  Mirandy,  'stead 
o'  kneelin',"  he  explained,  "  coz  I'll  be 
standin'  up,  with  the  pole,  goin'  through 
some  o'  the  rips,  an'  ye'll  be  steadier  sittin' 
than  kneelin'." 

"  But  I  paddle  better  kneeling,"  pro- 
tested Miranda. 

"Ye  won't  need  to  paddle,"  said  Dave, 
a  little  grimly.  "Ye'll  jest  maybe  fend  a 
rock  now  an'  agin,  that's  all.  The  current 
an'  me'll  do  the  rest." 

The  fall  of  the  "  Big  Soo  "  ended  in  a 
basin  very  wide  and  deep,  whose  spacious 
caverns  absorbed   the   fury  of  the   waters 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids      249 

and  allowed  them  to  flow  off  sullenly. 
Dave  knelt  in  the  stern,  paddle  in  hand, 
and  the  long  pole  of  white  spruce  sticking 
out  behind  the  canoe,  where  he  could  lay 
his  grasp  upon  it  in  an  instant.  A  couple 
of  strokes  sent  the  little  craft  out  into  the 
smooth,  purplish-amber  swirls  of  the  deep 
current,  whereon  the  froth  clusters  wheeled 
slowly.  A  few  minutes  more  and  a  green 
fringed  overhang  of  rock  was  rounded, 
the  last  energy  of  the  current  spent  itself 
in  a  deep  and  roomy  channel,  the  uproar 
of  the  cataract  mellowed  suddenly  to  that 
pulsating  thunder  which  they  had  heard  at 
first,  and  the  canoe,  under  Dave's  noise- 
less propulsion,  shot  forward  over  a  sur- 
face as  of  dark  brown  glass.  There  was  a 
mile  of  this  still  water,  along  which  Mi- 
randa insisted  upon  paddling.  The  rocks 
rose  straight  from  the  channel,  and  the 
trees  hung  down  from  their  rim,  and  the 
June  sun,  warmly  flooding  the  trough  of 
rock  and  water,  made  its  grimness  greatly 
beautiful.  Then  the  rocks  diminished, 
and  the  steep,  richly  green  slopes  of  the 
hillsides  came  down   to  the  water's  edge, 


250    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

and  a  rushing  clamour  began  to  swell  in 
the  distance.  The  currents  awakened 
under  the  canoe,  which  darted  forward 
more  swiftly.  The  shouting  of  the  "rips" 
seemed  to  rush  up  stream  to  meet  them. 
The  surface  of  the  river  began  to  slant 
away  before  them,  not  breaking  yet,  but 
furrowing  into  long,  thready  streaks.  Then, 
far  down  the  slant,  a  tossing  white  line  of 
short  breakers,  drawn  right  across  the  chan- 
nel, clambered  toward  them  ravenously. 

"  Ye'd  better  not  paddle  now,  Mi- 
randy,"  said  Dave,  in  a  quiet  voice,  standing 
up  for  a  moment  to  survey  the  channel, 
while  the  canoe  slipped  swiftly  down  tow- 
ard the  turmoil.  "  There's  rapids  now 
all  the  way  down  to  Gabe's  clearing.  An' 
we  won't  be  long  goin',  neither." 

A  moment  more,  and  to  Miranda  it 
seemed  that  the  leafy  shores  ran  by  her, 
that  the  gnashing  phalanx  of  the  waves 
sprang  up  at  her.  She  had  never  run  a 
rapid  before.  Her  experience  of  canoeing 
had  all  been  gained  on  the  lake.  She 
caught  her  breath,  but  did  not  flinch  as 
the  tumbling  waters  seethed  and  yammered 


*<  Stroke  on  the  right!'  came  Dave's  -  >• 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids      251 

around  her.  Then  her  blood  ran  hot  with 
the  excitement  of  it ;  her  nerves  tingled. 
She  wanted  to  cry  out,  to  paddle  wildly 
and  fiercely.  But  she  held  herself  under 
curb.  She  never  moved.  Only  the  grip 
of  her  hands  on  the  paddle,  which  lay  idle 
before  her,  tightened  till  the  knuckles 
went  white.  There  was  no  word  from 
Dave ;  no  sign  of  his  presence  save  that 
the  canoe  shot  straight  as  an  arrow,  and 
bit  firmly  upon  the  big  surges,  so  that  5 
knew  his  wrist  of  steel  was  in  control. 
Suddenly,  just  ahead,  sprang  a  square-  black 
rock,  against  which  the  mad  rush  of  water 
upreared  and  fell  back  broken  to  either 
side.  The  canoe  leaped  straight  at  it,  and 
Miranda  held  her  breath. 

"Stroke  on  the  right!'  came  Have's 
sharp  order.  She  dipped  her  paddle 
strenuouslv,  twice  —  thrice  —  and,  swerv 
ing  at  the  last  moment,  while  the  currents 
seethed  up  along  her  bulwarks,  the  canoe 
darted  safely  past. 

Miranda  stopped  paddling.  There  was 
a  steeper  slope  in  front,  but  a  clear  chan- 
nel, the  waves  not  high  but  wallowing  in- 


252    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

ward  toward  the  centre.  Straight  down 
this  centre  rushed  the  canoe,  the  surges 
clutching  at  her  on  both  sides,  yellow 
green,  with  white  foam-streaks  veining 
their  very  hearts.  At  the  foot  of  the 
slope,  singing  sharply  and  shining  in  the 
sun,  curved  a  succession  of  three  great 
"  ripples,"  stationary  in  mid-channel,  their 
back-curled  crests  thin  and  prismatic. 
Straight  through  these  Dave  steered. 
The  three  thin  crests,  thus  swiftly  divided, 
one  after  another,  slapped  Miranda  coldly 
in  the  face,  drenching  her,  and  leav- 
ing a  good  bucketful  of  water  in  the 
canoe. 

"  Oh  !  "  gasped  Miranda,  at  the  shock, 
and  shook  her  hair,  laughing  excitedly. 

There  was  gentler  water  now  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  and  Dave  steered 
cautiously  for  shore. 

"  We'll  hev  to  land  an'  empty  her  out," 
said  he.  "  Ther's  no  more  big  '  ripples  ' 
like  them  there  on  the  whole  river ;  an' 
we  won't  take  in  water  agin  'twixt  here 
an'  Gabe's." 

"  I    don't   care   if   we   do  ! '     exclaimed 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids      253 

Miranda,  fervently.  "It  was  splendid, 
Dave  !     And  you  did  it  just  fine  !  " 

This  commendation  took  him  aback 
somewhat,  and  he  was  unable  to  show  his 
appreciation  of  it  except  by  a  foolish  grin, 
which  remained  on  his  face  while  he  turned 
the  canoe  over  and  while  he  launched  it 
again.  It  was  still  there  when  Miranda 
resumed  her  place  in  the  bow ;  and, 
strangely  enough,  she  felt  no  disposition 
to  criticise  him  for  it. 

The  rest  of  the  journey,  lasting  nearly  an 
hour  longer,  was  a  ceaseless  succession  of 
rapids,  with  scant  and  few  spaces  of  quiet 
water  between.  None  were  quite  so  long 
and  violent  as  the  first ;  but  by  the  time  the 
canoe  slowed  up  in  the  reach  of  still  water 
that  ran  through  the  interval  meadow  of 
Gabe's  clearing,  Miranda  felt  fagged  from 
the  long-sustained  excitement.  She  felt 
as  if  it  had  been  she,  not  Dave,  whose 
unerring  eye  and  unfailing  wrist  had 
brought  the  canoe  in  triumph  through 
the  menace  of  the  roaring  races. 

They  landed  on  the  blossoming  meadow 
strip,  and    Dave    turned    the   canoe   over 


254    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

among  the  grasses,  under  the  shade  of  an 
elm  that  would  serve  to  keep  the  after- 
noon sun  from  melting  the  rosin  off  the 
seams.  Gabe's  cabin  stood  a  stone's  throw 
back  from  the  meadow,  high  enough  up 
the  slope  to  be  clear  of  the  spring  freshets. 
It  was  a  bare,  uncared-for  place,  with  black 
stumps  still  dotting  all  the  fields  of  buck- 
wheat and  potatoes,  a  dishevelled-looking 
barn,  and  no  vine  or  bush  about  the  house. 
It  gave  Miranda  a  pang  of  pity  to  look 
at  it.  Her  own  cabin  was  lonely  enough, 
but  with  a  high,  austere,  clear  loneliness 
that  seemed  to  hold  communion  with  the 
stars.  The  loneliness  of  this  place  was  a 
shut-in,  valley  loneliness,  without  horizons 
and  without  hope.  She  felt  sorry  almost 
to  tears  for  the  white  and  sad-eyed  woman 
who  appeared  in  the  cabin  door  to  wel- 
come them. 

"  Sary  Ann,  this  is  Mirandy  I  spoke  to 
ye  about." 

The  two  women  shook  hands  somewhat 
shyly,  and,  after  the  silent  fashion  of  their 
race,  said  nothing. 

"  How's  Jimmy  ?  "  asked  Dave. 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids       255 

"  '  Baout  the  same,  thank  ye,  Dave,"  re- 
plied the  woman,  wearily,  leading  the  way 
into  the  cabin. 

In  a  low  chair  near  the  window,  playing 
listlessly  with  a  dingy  red-and-yellow  rau; 
doll,  sat  a  thin-faced,  pallid  little  boy  with 
long,  pale  curls  down  on  his  shoulders. 
He  lifted  sorrowful  blue  eyes  to  Miranda's 
face,  as  she,  with  a  swift  impulse  of  tender- 
ness and  compassion,  rushed  forward  and 
knelt  down  to  embrace  him.  Her  vitality 
and  the  loving  brightness  of  her  look  won 
the  child  at  once.  His  wan  little  face 
lightened.  He  lifted  the  baby  mouth  to 
be  kissed.  Miranda  pressed  his  fair  head 
to  her  bosom  gently,  and  had  much  ado 
to  keep  her  eyes  from  running  over,  so 
worked  the  love  and  pity  and  the  mother- 
ing hunger  in  her  heart. 

"  He  takes  to  ye,  Mirandy,"  said  the 
woman,  smiling  upon  her.  And  Dave, 
his  passion  almost  mastering  him,  blurted 
out  proudly,  — 

"An'  who  wouldn't  take  to  her,  I'd  like 
to  know  ?  " 

He  felt  at  this  moment  that  Miranda  was 


256    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

now  all  human,  and  could  never  quite  go 
back  to  her  mystic  and  uncanny  wildness, 
her  preference  for  the  speechless,  furry  kin 
over  her  own  warm,  human  kind.  He  pro- 
duced the  medicine  from  his  satchel ;  and 
from  Miranda's  attentive  hand  Jimmy 
took  the  stuff  as  if  it  had  been  nectar. 
Jimmy's  mother  looked  on  with  undis- 
guised approval  of  the  girl.  Had  she 
thought  Miranda  was  going  to  stay  any 
length  of  time,  her  mother-jealousy  would 
have  been  aroused ;  but  as  it  was  she  was 
only  exquisitely  relieved  at  the  thought 
of  Jimmy's  being  in  some  one  else's  care 
for  a  few  hours.  She  whispered  audibly 
—  a  mere  chaffing  pretence  of  a  whisper 
it  was  —  to  Dave  :  — 

"  It's  a  right  purty  an'  a  right  smart 
little  wife  she'll  make  fer  ye,  Dave  Titus, 
an'  she'll  know  how  to  mind  yer  babies. 
Ye're  a  lucky  man,  an'  I  hope  ye  under- 
stand how  lucky  ye  air!" 

Poor  Dave  !  She  might  as  well  have 
thrown  a  bucket  of  cold  water  in  his  face. 
For  an  instant  he  could  have  strangled  the 
kindly,  coarse-grained,  well-meaning,  silly 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids      257 


woman,  who  stood  beaming  her  pale  good- 
will upon  them  both.  He  cursed  himself 
for  not  having  warned  her  that  Miranda 
could  not  be  chaffed  like  a  common  Set- 
tlement girl.  He  saw  Miranda's  face  go 
scarlet  to  the  ears,  though  she  bent  over 
Jimmy  and  pretended  to  have  heard  noth- 
ing ;  and  he  knew  that  in  that  moment 
his  good  work  was  all  undone.  For  a  few 
seconds  he  could  say  nothing,  and  the 
silence  grew  trying.  Then  he  stammered 
out:  — 

"  I'm  afeard  ther's  no  sich  luck  fer  me, 
Sary  Ann,  though  God  knows  I  want  her. 
But  Mirandy  don't  like  me  very  well." 

The  woman  stared  at  him  incredu- 
lously. 

"  Lord  sakes,  Dave  Titus,  then  what's 
she  doin'  here  alone  with  you  ? "  she  ex- 
claimed, the  weariness  coming  back  into 
her  voice  at  the  last  of  the  phrase.  "  Oh, 
you  go  'long!  You  don't  know  nothin' 
about  women  ! " 

This  was  quite  too  much  for  Dave,  whose 
instincts,  fined  by  long  months  in  the  com- 
panionship of  only  the  great  trees,  the  great 


258    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

winds,  and  the  grave  stars,  had  grown  un- 
erringly delicate.  His  own  face  flushed 
up  now  for  Miranda's  sake. 

"  I'd  take  it  kindly  of  ye,  Sary  Ann,  if 
ye'd  quit  the  subject  right  there,"  he  said 
quietly.  But  there  was  a  firmness  in  his 
voice  which  the  woman  understood. 

"  The  both  of  ye  must  be  nigh  dead 
for  somethin'  to  eat,"  she  said.  "  I  must 
git  ye  supper  right  off."  And  she  turned 
to  the  fireplace  and  filled  the  kettle. 

Thereafter,  through  supper,  and  through 
the  short  evening,  Miranda  had  never  a 
word  for  Dave.  She  talked  a  little,  kindly 
and  without  showing  her  resentment,  to 
Mrs.  White  ;  but  her  attentions  were  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  little  Jimmy.  Indeed, 
she  had  Jimmy  very  much  to  herself,  for 
Mrs.  White  got  Dave  to  help  with  the 
chores  and  the  milking.  Afterward,  about 
the  hearth-fire,  —  maintained  for  its  cheer 
and  not  for  warmth, —  Mrs.  White  con- 
fined her  conversation  largely  to  Dave. 
She  was  not  angry  at  him  on  account  of 
his  rebuke  —  but  vaguely  aggrieved  at 
Miranda  as  the  cause  of  it.     She   began 


In   the   Roar  of  the   Rapids       259 


to  feel  that  Miranda  was  different  from 
other  girls,  from  what  she  herself  had  been 
as  a  girl.  Miranda's  fineness  and  sensi- 
tiveness were  something  of  an  offence  to 
her,  though  she  could  not  define  them  at 
all.  She  characterized  them  vaguely  by 
the  phrase  "  stuck  up " ;  and  became 
presently  inclined  to  think  that  a  fine  fel- 
low like  Dave  was  too  good  for  her.  Still, 
she  was  a  fair-minded  woman  in  her  worn, 
colourless  way;  and  she  could  not  but 
allow  there  must  be  a  lot  in  Miranda  if 
little  Jimmy  took  to  her  so  —  "For  a 
child  knows  a  good  heart,"  she  said  to 
herself. 

Next  morning,  soon  after  dawn,  the 
travellers  were  off,  Miranda  tearing  her- 
self with  difficulty  from  little  Jimmy's  em- 
brace, and  leaving  him  in  a  desolation  of 
tears.  She  was  quite  civil  and  ordinary 
with  Dave  now,  so  much  so  that  good, 
obtuse,  weary  Mrs.  White  concluded  that 
all  was  at  rights  again.  But  Dave  felt  the 
icy  difference ;  and  he  was  too  proud,  it 
not  for  the  time  too  hopeless,  to  try  to 
thaw  it.      During  all  the   long,  laborious 


260    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

journey  upward  through  the  rapids,  by 
poling,  he  did  wonders  of  skill  and 
strength,  but  in  utter  silence.  His  feats 
were  not  lost  upon  Miranda,  but  she 
hardened  her  heart  resolutely  ;  for  now  a 
shame,  which  she  had  never  known  be- 
fore, gave  tenacity  to  her  anger.  Through 
it  all,  however,  she  couldn't  help  thrilling 
to  the  strife  with  the  loud  rapids,  and 
exulting  in  the  slow,  inexorable  conquest 
of  them.  The  return  march  through  the 
woods  was  in  the  main  a  silent  one,  as 
before;  but  how  different  a  silence  !  Not 
electric  with  meaning,  but  cold,  the  silence 
of  a  walled  chamber.  And,  as  if  the  spirits 
of  the  wood  maliciously  enjoyed  Dave's 
discomfiture,  they  permitted  no  incident, 
no  diversion.  They  kept  the  wood-folk 
all  away,  they  emptied  of  all  life  and  sig- 
nificance the  forest  spaces.  And  Dave 
grew  sullen. 

Arriving  back  at  the  clearing  just  before 
sundown,  they  paused  at  the  cabin  door. 
Dave  looked  into  Miranda's  eyes  with 
something  of  reproach,  something  of  ap- 
peal.      Kirstie's  voice,  talking   cheerfully 


In  the   Roar  of  the   Rapids      261 

to  Kroof,  came  from  the  raspherry  bram- 
bles behind  the  house.  Miranda  stretched 
out  her  hand  with  a  cool  frankness,  and 
returned  his  look  blankly. 

"  I've  had  a  real  good  time,  thank  you, 
Dave,"  she  said.  "You'll  find  mother 
yonder,  picking  raspberries." 


Chapter    XVIII 
The  Forfeit  of  the  Alien 

ALL  through  the  summer  and  early 
autumn  Dave  continued  his  fort- 
nightly visits  to  the  cabin  in  the  clearing, 
and  always  Miranda  treated  him  with  the 
same  cold,  casual  civility.  She  felt,  or 
pretended  to  herself  that  she  felt,  grateful 
now  to  the  blunt-fingered,  wan  woman 
over  at  Gabe  White's,  who  had  rudely 
jostled  her  back  to  her  senses  when  she 
was  on  the  very  edge  of  giving  up  her 
freedom  and  her  personality  to  a  man  — 
a  strong  man,  who  would  have  absorbed 
her.  She  flung  herself  passionately  once 
more  into  the  fellowship  of  the  furtive 
folk,  the  secrecy  and  wonder  of  the  wood. 
As  it  was  a  human  love  which  she  was 
crushing  out,  and  as  she  felt  the  need 
of  humanity  cravingly,  though  not  under- 
standingly,  at  her  heart,  she  lavished  upon 

262 


The   Forfeit  of  the  Alien         267 

Kirstie  a  demonstrativeness  of  affection 
such  as  she  had  never  shown  before.  It 
pleased  Kirstie,  and  she  met  it  heartily 
in  her  calm,  strong  way ;  but  she  saw 
through  it,  and  smiled  at  the  hack  of  her 
brain,  scarcely  daring  to  think  her  thought 
frankly,  lest  the  girl's  intuition  should 
discern  it.  She  made  much  of  Dave,  buf 
never  before  Miranda ;  and  she  kept 
encouraging  the  rather  despondent  man 
with  the  continual  assertion  :  "  It'll  be  all 
right,  Dave.  Don't  fret,  but  bide  your 
time."  To  which  Dave  responded  b) 
biding  his  time  with  a  quiet,  unaggressive 
persistence;  and  if  he  fretted,  he  took 
pains  not  to  show  it. 

If  Dave  had  an  ally  in  Kirstie,  he  had 
consistent  antagonists  in  all  the  folk  of 
the  wood;  for  never  before  in  all  Mi 
randa's  semi-occult  experience  had  the 
folk  of  the  wood  come  so  near  to  her. 
Kroof  was  her  almost  ceaseless  companion, 
more  devoted,  if  possible,  than  ever,  and 
certainly  more  quick  in  comprehension 
of  Miranda's  English.  And  Kroof  8  cub, 
a  particularly  fine  and  well-grown   young 


264    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

animal,  was  well-nigh  as  devoted  as  his 
mother.  When  these  two  were  absent  on 
some  rare  expedition  of  their  own,  under- 
taken by  Kroof  for  the  hardening  of  the 
cub's  muscles,  then  the  very  foxes  took 
to  following  Miranda,  close  to  heel,  like 
dogs ;  and  one  drowsy  fall  afternoon, 
when  she  had  lain  down  to  sleep  on  a 
sloping  patch  of  pine  needles,  the  self- 
same big  panther  from  whom  she  had 
rescued  Dave  came  lazily  and  lay  down 
beside  her.  His  large  purring  at  her  ear 
awoke  her.  He  purred  still  more  loudly 
when  she  gently  scratched  him  under  the 
throat.  She  was  filled  with  a  curious 
exaltation  as  she  marked  how  her  influ- 
ence over  the  wild  things  grew  and  wi- 
dened. Nothing,  she  vowed,  should  ever 
lure  her  away  from  these  clear  shades, 
these  silent  folks  whom  she  ruled  by  hand 
and  eye,  and  this  mysterious  life  which 
she  alone  could  know.  When  Old  Dave, 
for  whom  she  cared  warmly,  made  his 
now  infrequent  visits  to  the  clearing,  she 
had  an  inclination  to  avoid  him,  lest  he 
should    attack     her    purpose ;     and     the 


The  Forfeit  of  the   Alien         265 


thought  of  little  Jimmy's  white  face  and 
baby  mouth  she  put  away  obstinately,  as 
most  dangerous  of  all.  And  so  it  came 
that  when  October  arrived,  and  all  the 
forest  everywhere  was  noiselessly  astir 
with  falling  leaves,  and  the  light  of  the 
blue  began  to  peer  in  upon  the  places 
which  had  been  closed  to  it  all  summer, 
by  that  time  Miranda  felt  quire  secure  in 
her  resolve;  and  Dave's  fight  now  was  to 
keep  the  despair  of  his  heart  from  writ- 
ing itself  large  upon  his  face. 

Toward  the  end  of  that  October  Dave's 
hunting  took  him  to  the  rocky  open 
ground  where,  in  the  previous  June,  he 
and  Miranda  had  encountered  the  lvn- 
He  was  looking  for  fresh  meat  for  kiisrie, 
and  game,  that  day,  had  kept  aloof.  Just 
as  he  recognized,  with  a  kind  of  homesick 
ache  of  remembrance,  the  spot  where  he 
and  Miranda  had  seemed,  for  a  brief 
space,  to  be  in  perfect  accord  with  each 
other,  —  how  long  ago  and  how  unbe 
lievable  it  appeared  to  him  now  !  —  his 
hunter's  eye  caught  a  sight  which  brought 
the    rifle    to    his    shoulder.      lust    at    the 


266    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

edge  of  the  open  a  young  bear  stood 
greedily  stripping  blueberries  from  the 
laden  bushes,  and  grunting  with  satisfac- 
tion at  the  sweet  repast. 

"  A  bit  of  bear  steak,"  thought  Dave, 
"  will  be  jest  the  thing  for  Kirstie.  She's 
gittin'  a  mite  tired  o'  deer's  meat ! ' 

An  unhurried  aim,  a  sharp,  slapping 
report,  and  the  handsome  cub  sank  for- 
ward upon  his  snout,  and  rolled  over, 
shot  through  the  brain.  Dave  strode  up 
to  him.  He  had  died  instantly  —  so  in- 
stantly and  painlessly  that  his  half-open 
mouth  was  still  full  of  berries  and  small, 
dark  green  leaves.  Dave  felt  his  soft  and 
glossy  dark  coat. 

"  Ye're  a  fine  young  critter,"  he  mut- 
tered half  regretfully.  "  It  was  kind  o' 
mean  to  cut  ye  off  when  ye  was  havin* 
such  a  good  time  all  to  yerself." 

But  Dave  was  not  one  to  nurse  an  idle 
sentimentality.  Without  delay  he  skinned 
the  carcase,  and  cached  the  pelt  carefully 
under  a  pile  of  heavy  stones,  intending  to 
return  for  it  the  first  day  possible.  He 
was  going  to  the  clearing  now,  and  could 


The  Forfeit  of  the  Aliea        267 


not  take  a  raw  pelt  with  him,  to  damn 
him  finally  in  Miranda's  eyes;  but  the 
skin  was  too  fine  a  one  to  be  left  to  the 
foxes  and  wolverines.  When  it  was  safely 
bestowed,  he  cut  off  the  choicest  portions 
of  the  carcase,  wrapped  them  in  leaves 
and  tied  them  up  in  birch  bark,  slung  the 
package  over  his  shoulder,  and  set  out  in 
haste  for  the  clearing.  He  was  anxious 
that  Kirstie  should  have  bear  steaks  for 
supper  that  night. 

He  had  been  but  a  little  while  gone 
from  the  rocky  open,  where  the  red  car- 
case lay  hideously  affronting  the  sunlight, 
when  another  bear  emerged  in  leisurely 
fashion  from  the  shadows.  It  was  an 
animal  of  huge  size  and  with  rusty  tur 
that  was  greying  about  the  snout.  She 
paused  to  look  around  her.  On  the 
instant  her  body  stiffened,  and  then  she 
went  crashing  through  the  blueberry 
bushes  to  where  that  dreadful  thing  lay 
bleeding.  She  walked  around  it  twice, 
with  her  nose  in  the  air,  and  again  with 
her  nose  to  the  ground.  Then  she  backed 
away  from   it  slowly  down   the  slope,  her 


l6S    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

- 

stare  fixed  upon  it  as  if  she  expected  it 
might  rise  and  follow.  At  the  edge  of 
the  wood  she  wheeled  quickly,  and  went 
at  a  savage  gallop  along  the  trail  which 
Dave  had  taken. 

It  was  old  Kroof ;  and  Dave  had  killed 
her  cub. 

She  rushed  on  madly,  a  terrible  avenger 
of  blood;  but  so  fast  was  Dave  journey- 
ing that  it  was  not  much  short  of  an  hour 
before  her  instinct  or  some  keen  sense  told 
her  that  he  was  close  at  hand.  She  was 
not  blinded  by  her  fury.  Rather  was  she 
coolly  and  deliberately  set  upon  a  sufficing 
vengeance.  She  moderated  her  pace,  and 
went  softly  ;  and  soon  she  caught  sight 
of  her  quarry  some  way  ahead,  striding 
swiftly  down  the  brown-shadowed  vistas. 

There  was  no  other  bear  in  all  the  forests 
so  shrewd  as  Kroof;  and  she  knew  that 
for  the  hunter  armed  all  her  tremendous 
strength  and  furv  were  no  match.  She 
waited  to  catch  him  at  a  disadvantage. 
Her  huge  bulk  kept  the  trail  as  noise- 
lessly as  a  weasel  or  a  mink.  Young 
Dave,  with  all  his  woodcraft,  all  his  alert- 


The    Forfeit  of  the  Alien         269 


ness  of  sense,  all  his  intuition,  had  no 
guess  of  the  dark  Nemesis  which  was  so 
inexorably  dogging  his  stride.  He  was  in 
such  haste  that  in  spite  of  the  autumn 
chill  his  hair  clung  moistly  to  his  fore- 
head. When  he  reached  the  rivulet  flow- 
ing away  from  the  cabin  spring,  he  felt  that 
he  must  have  a  wash-up  before  presenting 
himself.  Under  a  big  hemlock,  he  dropped 
his  bundle,  threw  off  his  cap,  his  belt,  his 
shirt,  and  laid  down  his  loaded  rifle.  Then, 
bare  to  the  waist,  he  went  on  some  twenty 
paces  to  a  spot  where  the  stream  made  a 
convenient  pool,  and  knelt  down  to  give 
himself  a  thorough  freshening. 

Kroof's  little  eyes  gleamed  redly.  Here 
was  her  opportunity. 

She  crept  forward,  keeping  the  trunk 
of  the  hemlock  between  herself  and  her 
foe,  till  she  reached  the  things  which  Dave 
had  thrown  down  under  the  tree.  She 
sniffed  at  the  rolled-up  package  and  turned 
it  over  with  her  paw.  Then,  with  one 
short,  grunting  cough  of  rage  and  pain, 
she  launched  herself  upon  the  murderer 
of  her  cub. 


270    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

That  savage  cry  was  Dave's  first  hint  of 
danger.  He  looked  up  quickly,  his  head 
and  shoulders  dripping.  He  recognized 
Kroof.  There  was  no  time  for  choice. 
The  huge  animal  was  just  upon  him  ;  but 
in  that  instant  he  understood  the  whole 
tragedy.  His  heart  sickened.  There 
was  a  great  beech  tree  just  across  the 
pool,  almost  within  arm's  length.  With 
one  bound  he  reached  it.  With  the  next 
he  caught  a  branch  and  swung  himself  up, 
just  eluding  the  vengeful  sweep  of  Kroof's 
paw. 

Nimbly  he  mounted,  seeking  a  branch 
which  would  lead  him  to  another  tree  and 
so  back  to  the  ground  and  his  rifle ;  and 
Kroof,  after  a  moment's  pause,  climbed 
after  him.  But  Dave  could  not  find  what 
he  sought.  Few  were  the  trees  in  the 
ancient  wood  whose  topmost  branches  did 
not  twine  closely  with  their  neighbour 
trees.  But  with  a  man's  natural  aversion 
to  bathing  in  water  that  is  not  enlivened 
and  inspirited  by  the  direct  sunlight,  Dave 
had  chosen  a  spot  where  the  trees  were 
scattered  and  the  blue  of  the  sky  looked 


The   Forfeit  of  the  Alien        271 

in.  He  climbed  to  a  height  of  some  fort\ 
or  fifty  feet  from  the  ground  before  he 
found  a  branch  that  seemed  to  offer  am 
hope  at  all.  Out  upon  this  he  stepped, 
steadying  himself  by  a  slenderer  branch 
above  his  head.  Following  it  as  far  as  the 
branch  would  support  him,  he  saw  that  his 
position  was  all  but  hopeless.  He  could 
not,  even  by  the  most  accurate  and  fortu- 
nate swing,  catch  the  nearest  branch  of  the 
nearest  tree.  He  turned  back,  but  Kroof 
was  already  at  the  fork.  Her  claws  were 
already  fixed  upon  the  branch ;  she  was 
crawling  out  to  him  slowly,  inexorably  ; 
she  had  him  in  a  trap. 

Dave  stood  tense  and  moveless,  await- 
ing her.  His  face  was  white,  his  mouth 
set.  He  knew  that  in  all  human  proba 
bility  his  hour  was  come  ;  yet  what  might 
be  done,  he  would  do.  Far  below,  be- 
tween him  and  the  mingling  of  rock  ami 
moss  which  formed  the  ground  (he  looked 
down  upon  it,  chequered  with  the  late 
sunlight),  was  a  stout  hemlock  branch. 
At  the  last  moment  he  would  drop  ;  and 
the    branch  —  he    would    clutch    at    it — ■ 


272    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

might  perhaps  break  his  fall,  at  least  in 
part.  It  was  a  meagre  chance,  but  his  only 
one.  He  was  not  shaken  b^  fear,  but  he 
felt  aggrieved  and  disappointed  at  such  a 
termination  of  his  hopes ;  and  the  deadly 
irony  of  his  fate  stung  him.  The  branch 
bent  lower  and  lower  as  Kroof's  vast 
weight  drew  near.  The  branch  above,  too 
frail  to  endure  his  weight  alone,  still  served 
to  steady  him.  Pie  kept  his  head  erect, 
challenging  death. 

It  chanced  that  Miranda,  not  far  off,  had 
heard  the  roar  with  which  Kroof  had  rushed 
to  the  attack.  The  fury  of  it  had  brought 
her  in  haste  to  the  spot,  surprised  and  ap- 
prehensive. She  recognized  Dave's  rifle 
and  hunting-shirt  under  the  hemlock  tree, 
and  her  heart  melted  in  a  horrible  fear. 
Then  she  saw  Dave  high  up  in  the  beech 
tree,  his  bare  shoulders  gleaming  through 
the  russet  leaves.  She  saw  Kroof,  now 
not  three  feet  from  her  prey.  She  saw  the 
hate  in  the  beast's  eyes  and  open  jaws. 

"  Kroof!  "  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  fierce 
command  ;  and  Kroof  heeded  her  no  more 
than  if  she  had  been  the  wind  whispering. 


The  Forfeit  of  the  Alien         273 


"Kroof!  Kroof!"  she  cried  again,  in  an- 
guished appeal,  in  piercing  terror,  as' the 
savage  animal  crept  on.  Dave  did  not 
turn  his  head,  but  he  called  down  in  a 
quiet  voice :  "  Ye  can't  do  it  this  time, 
Mirandy.  I  guess  it's  good-by  now,  for 
good  !  " 

But  Miranda's  face  had  suddenly  set 
itself  to  stone.  She  snatched  up  the 
rifle.  "  Hold  on  !  "  she  cried,  and  taking 
a  careful,  untrembling  aim  she  pulled  first 
one  trigger,  then  the  other,  in  such  quick 
succession  that  the  two  reports  came  al- 
most as  one.  Then  she  dropped  the 
weapon,  and  stood  staring  wildly. 

The  bear's  body  heaved  convulsively 
for  a  moment,  then  seemed  to  fall  to- 
gether on  the  branch,  clutching  at  it.  A 
second  later  and  it  rolled  off,  with  a  leis- 
urely motion,  and  came  plunging  down- 
ward, soft,  massive,  enormous.  It  struck 
the  ground  with  a  sobbing  thud.  Mi- 
randa gave  a  low  cry  at  the  sound,  turned 
away,  and  leaned  against  the  trunk  ot  the 
hemlock.  'Her  face  was  toward  the  tree, 
and  hidden  in  the  bend  of  her  arm. 


274    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

■  — ■  -  i  ■  ■'■■■'■  ■  —  -  — ^— * 

Dave  knew  now  that  all  he  had  hoped  for 
was  his.  Yet,  after  the  first  overwhelm- 
ing, choking  throb  of  exultation,  his  heart 
swelled  with  pity  for  the  girl,  with  pity 
and  immeasurable  tenderness.  He  de- 
scended from  his  refuge,  put  on  his  hunt- 
ing-shirt and  belt,  looked  curiously  at  the 
empty  rifle  where  it  lay  on  the  moss,  and 
kicked  the  corded  package  of  meat  into  a 
thicket.  Then  he  went  and  stood  close 
beside  Miranda. 

After  a  moment  or  two  he  laid  an  arm 
about  her  shoulders  and  touched  her  with 
his  large  hand,  lightly  firm.  "Ye  won- 
derful Mirandy,"  he  said,  "you've  give 
me  life  over  agin !  I  ain't  a-goin'  to 
thank  ye,  though,  till  I  know  what  ye' re 
goin'  to  do  with  me.  My  life's  been  jest 
all  yours  since  first  I  seen  ye  a  woman 
grown.  What'll  ye  do  with  the  life  ye've 
saved,  Mirandy  ?  " 

He  pressed  her  shoulder  close  against 
his  heart,  and  leaned  over,  not  quite  dar- 
ing to  kiss  the  bronze-dark  hair  on  which 
he  breathed.  The  girl  turned  suddenly, 
with    a    sob,    and    caught    hold    of   him, 


The  Forfeit  of  the   Alien        275 


and  hid  her  face  in  his  breast.  "Oh, 
Dave ! '  she  cried,  in  a  piteous  voice, 
"take  mother  and  me  away  from  this 
place;  I  don't  want  to  live  at  the  clcarinjj 
any  more.  You've  killed  the  old  life  I 
loved."  And  she  broke  into  a  storm  of 
tears. 

Dave  waited  till  she  was  quieter.  Then 
he  said:  "If  I've  changed  your  life,  Mi- 
randy,  ye've  changed  mine  a  sight,  too. 
I'll  hunt  and  trap  no  more,  dear,  an'  the 
beasts'll  hev  no  more  trouble  'long  o'  me. 
We'll  sell  the  clearin',  an'  go  'way  do\vn 
onto  the  Meramichi,  where  I  can  git  a 
good  job  surveyin'  lumber.  I'm  right 
smart  at  that.  An'  I  reckon  —  oh,  I 
love  ye,  an'  I  need  ye,  an'  I  reckon  I 
can  make  ye  happy,  ye  wonderful  Mi- 
randy." 

The  girl  heard  him  through,  then 
gently  released  herself  from  his  arms. 
"You  go  an'  tell  mother  what  I've  done, 
Dave,"  she  said,  in  a  steady  voice,  "  and 
leave  me  here  a  little  while  with  Kroof." 

That   evening,   after    Miranda   had    re 
turned    to   the  cabin,   Kirstie    and    Dave 


276    The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

came  with  spades  and  a  lantern  to  the 
beech  tree  by  the  pool.  Where  they 
could  find  room  in  the  rocky  soil,  they 
dug  a  grave ;  and  there  they  buried  old 
Kroof  deeply,  that  neither  might  the  claws 
of  the  wolverine  disturb  her.  nor  any  lure 
of  spring  suns  waken  her  from  her  sleep. 


Agatha  Webb 

By 
ANNA  RATHARINE  GREEN 


Author  of  "  The  Leavenworth  Case," 
"  That  Affair  Next  Door,"  etc. 


"Agatha  Webb  "  is  the  most  absorbing  story  that 
has  appeared  during  the  past  few  years.  It  is 
deemed  by  those  acquainted  with  Anna  Katharine 
Green's  works  to  be  the  most  notable  achievement 
of  her  pen.  The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  a 
staid  New  England  village,  not  far  from  Boston. 
Agatha  Webb  and  her  servant  are  found  dead. 
The  task  of  unravelling  the  mystery  begins  at 
once,  and  the  narrative  is  woven  together  with 
such  consummate  skill  that  the  guilt  points  in  turn 
to  a  number  of  persons.  The  author  builds  up 
the  most  astonishing  case  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence against  each  of  them  in  turn,  only  later  to 
upset  the  reader's  fine-spun  theories.  The  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery,  which  is  revealed  in  an 
intensely  dramatic  court  scene,  is  the  most 
astonishing  feature  of  the  book.  In  addition  to 
the  attraction  of  the  mystery,  there  is  a  fascinat- 
ing love-story. 


THE  LIFE  AND  LOVES  OF  LORD  BYRON 


THE 
CASTAWAY 


"  Three  great  men  ruined  in  one  year — a  king,  a  cad  and  » 
castaway." — Byron. 

Ay  HALLIE  ERMINIE  RIVES 
Author  of  Hearts  Courageous 


Lord  Byron's  personal  beauty,  his  brilliancy,  his 
genius,  his  possession  of  a  title,  his  love  affairs,  his 
death  in  a  noble  cause,  all  make  him  the  most  mag- 
netic figure  in  English  literature.  In  Miss  Rives' s 
novel  the  incidents  of  his  career  stand  out  in  ab- 
sorbing power  and  enthralling  force. 

The  most  profoundly  sympathetic,  vivid  and  true 
portrait  of  Bvron  ever  drawn. 
Calvin  Dill  Wilson,  author  of  Byroti — Man  and  Poet 

Dramatic  scenes,  thrilling  incidents,  strenuous 
events  follow  one  another;  pathos,  revenge  and 
passion  ;  a  strong  love ;  and  through  all  these,  under 
all  these,  is  the  poet,  the  man,  George  Gordon. 

Grand  Rapids  Herald 

With  eight  illustrations  in  color  by 

Howard  Chandler  Christy 

\  2mo,  cloth,  price,  $1.00  every  whers 

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A.     Wcsscls     Company,         New     1' '  o  r  k 


NOTHING    BUT    PRAISE" 


LAZARRE 

By  MARY  HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD 


Glorified  by  a  beautiful  love  story.— Chicago  Tribune. 

We  feel  quite  Justified  in  predicting  a  wide-sprc-mi  ,iiid 
prolonged  popularity  for  this  latest  comer  into  the  ranks  of 
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After  all  the  material  for  the  story  had  been  collected  a 
year  was  required  for  the  writing  of  it.  It  is  an  historical 
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of  character  drawing  and  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  the 
tone  and  atmosphere  of  the  period  involved.— N.  Y.  Herald. 

Lazarre,  :s  uo  less  a  person  than  the  Dauphin,  Louis 
XVII.  of  France,  and  a  right  royal  hero  he  makes.  A  prince 
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pheres, facing  the  wrath  of  kings  in  Europe  and  the  bullets 
of  savages  in  America;  who  at  the  last  spurns  a  kingdom  that 
he  may  wed  her  freely— here  is  one  to  redeem  the  sins  of 
those  who  "never  learn  and  never  lozzzt.''— Philadelphia 
North  A  merican 

With  six  Illustrations  by  Andr<5  Castaigne 
12  mo.       Price,  $i  50 


"A  NOVEL  THAT'S  WORTH  WHILE" 

The  REDEMPTION 
of  DAVID  CORSON 

By  CHARLES  FREDERIC  GOSS 

A  Mid-century  American  Novel 
of  Intense  Power  and  Interest 

The  Interior  says  : 

"This  is  a  book  that  is  worth  while.  Though  it  tells  of 
weakness  and  wickedness,  of  love  and  license,  of  revoke 
and  remorse  in  an  intensely  interesting  way,  yet  i'  r,i  above 
all  else  a  clean  and  pure  story.  No  one  ovi  read  it  and 
honestly  ask  '  whst's  the  use.'  " 

l'Jeivell  Divigbt  HUlis,  Pastor  of  Plymouth  Cburcb,  Brooklyn, 
says  : 

"  *  The  Redemption  of  David  Corson*  strikes  a  strong,  healthy, 
buoyant  note." 

Dr.  F.  TV.  Gunsaulus,  President  Armour  Institute,  says  : 

"Mr.  Goss  writes  with  the  truthfulness  of  light.  He  has 
told  a  story  in  which  the  fact  of  sin  is  illuminated  with  the 
utmost  truthfulness  and  the  fact  of  redemption  is  portrayed 
with  extraordinary  power.  There  are  lines  of  greatness  in 
the  book  which  I  shall  never  forget." 

President  M.  rV.  Stryker,  Hamilton  College,  says  i 

"  It  is  i  victory  in  writing  for  one  whose  head  seems  at  last 
to  have  matched  his  big  human  heart.  There  is  ten  times 
as  much  of  reality  in  it  as  there  is  in  *  David  Harum,'  which 
does  not  value  lightly  that  admirable  charcoal  tketch." 

Price,  $1.50 


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